Because of You
by Mr G and Me
Summary: *Sequel to Someone Like You.* While tragedy tests their relationship, lies threaten to completely tear them apart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had originally intended for this to be a sequel, but thought I could rework it as an epilogue. Of course, it totally tanked as an epi-it was way too long and was obscuring the original story, so I pulled it to repost in-line with my original idea. Apparently by doing this I have upset a few people, so I would like to give a shout-out to those few half baked imbeciles who decided to anonymously review and PM me, calling me a review whore (anyone who knows me knows I NEVER pimp my shit, and that I'm long past caring about reviews or traffic etc.) and that I should die. Well, I'm not dying-sorry to disappoint-so go fuck yourself. I'm alive and kicking.**

**Can someone please explain to me why people have to be such assholes...? Ugh...**

**Anywho, I hope this translates better as a sequel than it did an epilogue, and I hope you all enjoy.**

**Also, a head's up. This chapter contains sensitive material.**

* * *

**Because of You **

**Chapter 1**

**Bella's POV**

On Christmas Eve 2014, my mother, Renee Dwyer, died.

While driving under the influence she hit a telegraph pole travelling over 150 kilometres an hour. Her blood alcohol level was four times over the legal Australian limit.

She died instantly. I was 19.

The General didn't tell me until a week later—not wanting to spoil my Christmas, he said. He was home for a week over the holiday and decided to tell me just before he left and before I left with Edward, Alice and Jazz for the week to the Sol Duc Hot Springs Resort in Port Angeles.

I had no idea how to feel. Literally. The moment he told me I froze, and for a moment I felt as if my heart was being clenched, but it all too quickly passed before I turned ... impassive. I told myself I was experiencing projections of grief for the mother I had always dreamed Renee was; a fantasy I'd constructed as a way to endure the emotional damage of my childhood. At least, until the brutal truth of reality—of who Renee really was—again intervened.

But still, it almost took the breath out of me.

"You're going to have to return to Australia to sort out her estate, Isabella," my father explained sedately to me, buttoning up my jacket, as I stood in the doorway trembling uncontrollably during our farewell. "She left everything to you..."

"She ... she did?" I asked, my voice almost failing. For a moment I was stunned, before I focused my attention on the implications of my father's words.

I quickly became cynical.

_Everything_, I wanted to scoff. My mother owned a rundown farm, on 25 acres of land inherited from her parents. That _everything_ would be a constant reminder of the pain I'd suffered throughout the majority of my life.

Now it was mine.

And I had to go back again.

"She did," my father echoed me, reiterating the fact, before he bent down and planted a tight-lipped kiss on my cheek. "Look after yourself. Keep up your studies—make me proud." And with a semi-warm smile, The General placed his palm momentarily on the top of my head, before he turned and walked down the path to the waiting Taxi.

I waited on the doorstep in the freezing cold, and watched my father leave, before turning and robotically trudging upstairs to my room to retrieve my packed bag. My heart was hammering, and I wasn't sure whether it was over the usual heartache I felt over my father leaving or because of my mother's death.

Or because I was pregnant.

My IPhone buzzed. I retrieved it from my bedside table; it was Edward.

**Be there in 5, babe.**

Mechanically my finger pressed over the screened keyboard in reply:** K**

After Kel's funeral, when we were back in Forks, Edward and I went through twelve rocky months before things began to really calm between us. In all retrospect it should have been the end of us, but with me and him it was never that simple—never that black and white.

We fought all the time—passionately, heatedly—screaming at each other—face to face, over the phone, through Alice, Jazz, Jake; whoever was there. It was never pretty—and had become notorious. I'd tell Edward how much I hated him; how much I wished I'd never met him. He'd tell me getting emotionally invested in me was the worst fucking mistake of his life, and he wished he could just go back to fucking mindless girls—and that was the PG version. I'd throw something at him, or shove him—or both, and not speak to him for a week. Edward would then hound me to no end, yelling out to me in the middle of the night below my bedroom window, or climbing through it—almost falling and breaking his neck several times. I would always forgive him—how could I not? This connection of ours was far too strong to break that easily, and he always knew exactly what to say to get me to come around.

And I loved him as much as I always did; with the same intensity and emotional charge.

We'd apologise to each other profusely, cry, kiss, have repeated make-up sex, swear our undying love, have more sex, and everything would be fine—for a month, at least. Then my high strung boyfriend would provoke my neurotic anal retentiveness, we'd both overreact, then there'd be another ridiculously huge blowout, and the ritual would begin all over again.

It wasn't until we graduated that our relationship started growing a solid foundation. I also think the fact that we didn't see so much of each other made a huge difference. Once we both had some real direction in our lives, things were different. At least, when Edward had direction, because I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself. Apart of me still felt as lost as I did on my first day in Forks—I still had no idea who I really was without the history of my past.

But with Edward more at ease, so was my reaction to him.

Edward was still essentially Edward, though; bad tempered, acts before he thinks, gets completely controlled by his emotions, Edward.

And I was still ... well ... me.

Edward started at South Seattle Community College this past September to get his EMT-B certificate, and during the summer after graduation Carlisle got him a job working with paramedics, while he was getting certified in CPR.

At the same time, Alice and I were accepted at Seattle University. I decided on Business Economics, for no other reason than it seemed like it could actually lead to a real job at the end—and my father was paying for it. Alice was doing Nursing—making Carlisle very proud, having successfully encouraged two of his three step kids into the field of health care.

During the summer, while Edward was working in Port Angeles, Uncle Billy got me a Job in the station as a receptionist. Edward and I barely saw each other. We'd spend the weekends together, of course, and a couple of nights during the week Edward would come and pick me up, before we'd drive to our secluded place in the woods and have sex.

Then, when I started at College the General paid for a small, shoebox of a one bedroom apartment for me—with the explicit instructions that _that boy_—meaning Edward—didn't live there with me. He stayed with me anyway—for half the time, at least. The other half he stayed with Alice and Jazz on the sofa; which drove him crazy—and extinguished most of his sex drive; his words, not mine. But things had been working out pretty well, we weren't fighting any more, and for the first time in a long time I started to think that we really did have a shot at it.

Then that morning happened, six days ago.

I found myself staring down at a little plastic stick with two bright pink lines across it, in the growing midst of a massive anxiety attack.

I have no idea how it happened—apart from the obvious, of course. I had never missed a pill—I hadn't gotten sick to cause a missed pill—I was always cautious to the point of being militant on birth control. But it still happened, and I was convinced it'd be the end of us. I was nowhere near ready, and Edward … I had absolutely no idea how he'd handle it. He was still as impulsive and unpredictable as he ever was, and I couldn't imagine he'd take it well.

And I was repeating the cycle; a legacy of my mother's I swore I never would.

That fateful morning was two days before Christmas, and now that I thought about it, with Australia being almost a full day ahead of the U.S, I found out the day my mother was killed.

Edward still doesn't know, but it's not as if he didn't pick up immediately that something very wrong was happening with me. Strangely, and uncharacteristically, he didn't bug me over it. Usually he wouldn't leave me alone until I told him whatever was bothering me, but not this time. He'd just glance at me with a troubled expression growing across his face, but remained quiet. It was if he was pretending along with me that everything was fine; or maybe he sensed how huge it was and was protecting himself behind denial.

Whatever the reason I'd decided I was going to tell him during our break.

Hauling my bag off my bed, I carried it downstairs and dropped it at the front door, before turning back to the living room. Jake was playing Xbox with Leah on the couch, as they heckled and elbowed each other through it.

I'd actually worried a lot about Jake and Leah. I thought initially Leah was Jake's transition from Nessie, but as it turned out she was the best thing to happen to him. They were so alike, they never fought—ever, and Uncle Billy was so overjoyed to have Leah and Jake together that he often went off on his fishing trips with the two of them housesitting alone together.

That _never_ happened when he was with Nessie.

"I'm off, guys!" I called to them, over the ruckus of their game. It was the last chance I'd get to say goodbye; we were going back to school immediately after our trip.

Jake paused the game, before immediately jumping off the couch, and grabbing me in a bear hug, hauling me off the ground. It knocked the wind out of me like it usually did. He was 6"6 now, and still had no idea of his own strength.

"Seeya, Bells!" he exclaimed with his usual cheerful enthusiasm, before smashing a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

"Bye, cuz," I mumbled, my tone turning more soft and affected than I had intended.

Jake held me at arm's length, and gauged me for a moment. "You OK, Bells? You've been pretty weepy the last few days."

I guess I officially sucked at pretences.

"Yeah ... I'm just tired—I guess I'm still getting used to my school schedule," I mumbled, shrugging and breaking contact from the concerned warmth reflecting in his eyes.

Jake didn't look convinced, but he accepted it none the less, before Leah suddenly yanked me into her embrace. "Catch ya soon, Bells, yeah."

"See ya, Leah. Look after him for me."

"Will do," she replied winking, and making me break into a reluctant grin.

You couldn't help but smile around the two of them; their energy was contagious.

By the time, I'd said my goodbyes to Uncle Billy, Edward's midnight blue Volvo was already sitting in front of the house.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I closed the door behind me, immediately going rigid in the cold, as Edward made his way up the path towards me.

His face was pale and flushed from the weather, and as our eyes met he broke into a warm, welcoming grin; though, there was something guarded about his eyes.

To me Edward was Edward. My boyfriend, my tormentor, my ally, but I often forgot how handsome he was—how handsome he grew with every passing month. At times it would stop me short in surprise, drawing my breath in—like it did just then.

I smiled, without conscious thought, but inside I wanted to cry.

This handsome boy had ruined my life—and I was about to ruin his.

Taking my bag gently from me, he dropped it to the ground before pulling me against him. I could feel the warmth of his skin through his jacket, and I pressed myself further against him, hoping it would erase all my stress; all my worries, like it used to.

But not this time.

I released my breath into one long, drawn out sigh—that Edward immediately reacted to me.

"Come on," he said softly before, with his arm over my shoulder, he led me to his car.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, turning to me a couple of times, with the concern in his eyes concentrating, before with a heavy breath, he broke it. "Bella ... what the hell is going on—you've been—"

"My mother died," I confessed before he could finish; though, that wasn't the reason he was referring to.

He immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road, and turned to me. "H-how…?

"DUI," I answered without emotion, glancing out the window.

It was snowing...

"Fuck, babe," his said quietly, "How do you feel?" His hand dropped to my leg, squeezing gently.

I shrugged before answering truthfully, without deviating my eyes from the gently falling snow, "I don't know."

It's not as if there's a handbook on it—on how to feel when the abusive, alcoholic mother who despised you all your life suddenly dies.

There was silence, and when I turned to look at him his intense eyes caught and canvassed mine, before he asked apprehensively, "Are you OK…?"

"Yeah—I guess," I mumbled, because that was also the truth. It was a strange revelation to know my mother was dead. Apart of me felt a freeing kind of relief, another part of me felt nothing, and the final part of me was sad. Sad, not because of what was, but of what should have been.

A percentage of me wanted to mourn for a mother who never existed.

"Babe..." he breeched, his tone gentle, "It's obvious you're not OK. I mean, shit, this has to screw with your head a little bit, doesn't it?"

I shrugged again, happy for the most part that he was accepting my mother's death as the cause of my mood over the last few days; happy to hide in the lie a bit longer. So I focused my thoughts further on it, if only to perpetuate the lie, because I really didn't want to think about it. "I suppose it does, but ... really ... there's just nothing there. I wish someone would tell me how I'm supposed to feel, because ... I don't know how to..."

He moved his palm to nape of my neck before pulling me towards him and pressing his lips against my forehead for a moment. "I'm sorry, baby—not because she's dead, but because..." he seemed to abandon it, but I understood his meaning.

"I know," I replied softly, then raising my head, I connected my lips with his, tenderly but briefly, before teasing him. "Now stop being such a sap. We're going to be late."

He broke into a knowing grin, exhaling past it before, kissing me quickly on the top of my head, he pulled the car back onto the highway.

We drove for about half an hour in relative, comfortable silence. Edward left his hand resting on my knee, moving it only to change gears, before back again, but as I glanced at him, I noticed the crick between his brows grow deeper and deeper.

He still sensed there was more to it, and five minutes later, he put a voice to his intuition. "Sure that's all that's bothering you, baby?"

"No ... I'm also pregnant."

Wait—did I just say that out loud?

I'm guessing by the way Edward slammed on his brakes, I did.

* * *

I have no idea how we made it to Port Angeles alive. Edward's hands shook the entire way, while his face steadily paled and his expression grew more panicked with each passing mile.

After the initial shock, there was silence. I didn't know what else to say, and it was obvious Edward was struggling to process it—struggling to come to terms with this new reality. At one point I actually thought the vein running down the middle of his forehead might burst.

His hand no longer sat on my leg. It stayed against the side of his face, his tense fingers pushing into his ridged brow. I just continued to gaze out the window, trying so desperately to keep my tears at bay, and stem my growing anxiety, while having one final sickening revelation.

Renee had had the final laugh; I was following in her footsteps.

When we finally arrived, Edward parked the car, only he remained sitting in his seat for a few moments, seeming lost in thought; his hands clasped around the steering wheel.

I only gauged him as the sense of inevitability within me grew, then with a resigned, wavering breath, I turned to exit the car, when he grabbed my hand.

I met the burning depths of his gaze, that held steadfast to mine, before his brow bunched and he momentarily looked away. "I'm sorry, baby. It was ... just kind of ... a shock," he explained after a moment, the tone of his voice still reflective of it.

"Yeah ... I know," I replied, barely a whisper, in empathy with him. I knew how badly I'd reacted when I found out; did I expect Edward to take it any better?

He squeezed my hand, his eyes becoming suddenly determined, and resolute. "We're gonna work this out—OK?"

I nodded again—wanting so much to believe him, but I didn't.

Edward retrieved our bags out of his trunk, and slung them over his shoulder before we headed towards the main reception building of the log cabin springs. I was walking slightly ahead of him, and so reaching out, he grabbed my jacket and pulled me to him, wrapping his arm over my shoulder.

"I want you to trust me, Bella," he said softly against my ear. "We're going to be OK." He sounded so certain, before he pressed his warm lips to my temple, and for one brief moment I was flooded with optimism.

Inevitably, it didn't last long.

When we checked in and went in search of our cabin, we ran into Jazz and Alice, and of course, Alice being Alice, she zeroed in on us straight away.

"What's going on with you two?" she asked, suspiciously, her eyebrows narrowing, after the formalities of our hellos.

"We're fine ... Bella's just not feeling very well," Edward mumbled, his eyes breaking from hers to rest at his feet; his brow etching deeper.

Bloody hell. He was a terrible liar!

Alice's gaze locked to mine, scrutinizing me for a moment, before it dipped ... to my stomach.

Shit!

It was morning, Edward said I was sick—what other conclusion would she come to? Morning sickness—even though I didn't have anything of the kind.

Yet.

When her gaze rose again to meet mine, it was suddenly plagued with concern.

Feeling immediately exposed, I severed eye contact quickly, frustrated that she was so perceptive, and turned back to Edward; he was rubbing the heel of his palm heavily into his forehead—screaming discomfort.

I only sighed.

"Dude ... you OK?" Jazz finally asked, as he gazed between me and Edward, looking more and more confused.

"Yeah," Edward muttered in reply, without looking at him.

"So ... what say we meet at the springs in about ... ten?" Alice piped up, her enthusiasm suddenly sounding feigned.

It was agreed upon by all, before we separated to find our cabins.

Edward and I were in number 22.

"What is that horrible smell?" I asked, clamping my hand over my nose and mouth, as Edward unlocked the door.

He turned back to me, a small smile ghosting over his lips. "Probably the sulphur, babe."

I guess, being a natural hot spring, it made sense, but it was quickly making me nauseated.

With my stomach beginning to churn, I pushed passed him into the cabin, and sat down on the bed expelling my breath. The room was cosy and quaint, but at that point, with my head spinning, I wasn't able to appreciate it.

Flopping back down against the bed, I draped my arm over my eyes, groaning softly.

It was followed by silence, and when I moved my arm to peak beneath it, my eyes locked with Edward's; he stood at the foot of the bed, a frown forming across his face.

Immediately, I felt shredded by guilt.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I said softly, with a heavy sigh, before I sat myself semi-upright on my elbows.

His entire face warmed, his expression almost looking vulnerable, before he climbed on the bed beside me, and pulled me against his chest.

I immediately clung to him, curling my body around his, craving the heat of his skin beneath his layers of clothes.

His lips pressed to my forehead, before I was bathed in his breath a moment later. "Why are you apologising?" he murmured.

"Because..." I mumbled, my face clouding with despair, "I've ruined everything..."

He scoffed, pressing his lips to my brow again, but this time seeming to rest them against me, in thought. "Don't be a _dag_," he teased me after a moment, his tone turning light, before he pulled back to see my face. "You haven't ruined anything."

I flashed him a wry grin without really feeling it, before laying my head back against his chest.

He took one heavy, burdened breath after another, before he finally spoke. "We'll talk about it tonight, baby. Just try and relax for now, OK?" His voice was almost fractured, and preoccupied.

Not that I could blame him, at all; though, so far he was taking it a lot better than I first thought.

I only nodded, taking a resigned breath in echo to him. "I love you," I whispered after a while, my voice beginning to choke.

"I love you too, cheeseball," he replied, without a pause, his tone tender.

Focusing on it all was beginning to make me feel too inundated—as if I was suddenly drowning—and Edward, seeming to sense this, pulled the two of us up and off the bed. "Come on, muffin cakes—let's get our _cozies _on."

* * *

There were three springs formed into circular concrete pools, each with a different surface temperature; Edward and I climbed into the warmest at 44 Celsius.

If only the smell of the sulphur didn't make me feel sick, it would have been perfect—and if I wasn't pregnant too, of course. The feel of the mineral water was so soothing, and freeing, and after submerging completely, I relaxed myself up against Edward and closed my eyes; exhaling into a contented hum.

Edward cradled me, with my back to him, grazing his fingers absently over my ribs, my stomach; and my breasts without breaking the silence between us.

With my eyes remaining closed, I listened to the sounds of the wildlife surrounding us, intermingled with the steady rhythm of Edward's heart—and the approaching shrill voice of Alice. Then in the next moment, an almighty splash completely disrupted our peaceful contemplation, while the resulting waves began to give me an impression of sea sickness.

I sat upright, between Edward's knees, getting my bearings, as Edward huffed out his breath in irritation. "Jesus, Jazz, do you always have to act like a fucking five year old?"

Jazz's only response was to splash Edward directly in the face, and for three seconds he was fuming, until his eyes locked slyly to Jazz and he lunged at him.

For the next several minutes the two of them did their best to drown each other, while Alice and I, attempting to avoid the resulting tsunamis, moved to the farthest side of the pool. I sat on the step, needing to be anchored, as Alice spread herself out on her stomach, continuing to gaze at me astutely.

The smell of the sulphur was really beginning to compromise me, and Alice was not proving to be much of a distraction from it. Ironically, I found myself glad for the fumes to distract me from her way too observant gaze.

She made chit-chat with me—asking me overtly casual questions about Jake and Leah, what I got for Christmas, etc.—obviously hoping I'd volunteer whatever information willingly, but when that failed, and with her face beginning to darken with frustration, she came right out and asked, "Bella"—her expression suddenly smoothed out with alarm—"are you going to be sick?"

"Yes!" I burst, the palm of my hand muffling my voice, as I leaped from the pool and stumbled towards the restrooms.

I barely made it, and it wasn't pretty; nor was it only once. I hadn't thrown up like that since ... the night of Kel's funeral.

Luckily, Alice was by my side to hold back my wet hair, as I sat kneeling, whimpering into the hollow bowl, trembling from the combined sensation of extreme cold and nausea.

"Ohhhh dear…" Alice murmured, her tone reflecting my pitiful situation, but soothing and tender, as she smoothed back my hair.

"You know—don't you?" I asked her with a shaky, quivering voice, my eyes clamped shut as I concentrated on taking deep, even breaths.

"That I'm going to be an Aunty? Yes, I know..." she replied gently—but tactfully.

"Oh, God, Alice," I moaned, pushing myself back off the toilet rim as she flushed it. "What the hell have I done?"

She wrapped her arm consolingly around my neck, pulling me closer to her. "Apart from loving my goofy brother? Nothing."

Her damp skin was warm, and unlike me shuddering violently against her, she was completely composed. "How are you not cold?" I asked, grateful for a moment's distraction.

"Oh please," she waved her hand dismissively, her tone light and teasing, "we lived in Alaska for five years—this is nothing."

I broke into an immediate smile before it all soon faded, and I began to feel the weight of this new reality continue to plague me. "Alice…" I whispered, suddenly close to tears, "I'm not ready for this, and Edward—well, you know how Edward is."

She nodded in understanding, her expression thoughtful, while her smile turned almost sad. "I know how Edward is..."

I only gazed at her for a moment, my eyes pleading with hers futilely—because what the hell did I expect her to do? Make this all go away?

Expelling my breath, and shaking my head lightly to myself, I pushed it forcefully from my thoughts; reminding myself that Edward and I hadn't even really talked about it yet. I'd have plenty of time to fall apart after, but at the moment, I really had to keep it together and at least attempt to stay positive—and have even a minimal amount of faith in our relationship.

"I don't know..." I mumbled aloud, conceding to my own pessimistic thoughts regardless.

"It'll be OK, Bella. Trust me," Alice said, taking the reins in optimism in the wake of my dismal failure.

I forced a begrudging smile to my lips before it turned melancholy. "Edward said the same thing."

"Well see? That means it has to be," she replied, lightly, her smile this time broad and encouraging.

Wrapping her arms more securely around me, she helped me to my feet, when we were suddenly interrupted by a loud banging on the entrance door.

"Babe—are you OK?" Edward called from the other side of it, before he walked in, dripping wet with an anxiousness creasing his forehead.

"I'm fine," I assured him, walking to the sink to rinse out my mouth on shaky, wobbly legs.

"Edward—this is the ladies room!" Alice hissed at him.

"Bite me, ferret," he retorted, his eyes on me, before he took my hand, and pulled me closer to him. "Do you want to lie down for a while, baby?"

"Maybe get something to eat," I suggested, resting my forehead on his chest for a moment, still feeling the dizzying effects on my equilibrium.

His warm hand slid around to the nape of my neck, beneath my hair, before his lips planted themselves against the top of my head. "Come on then..."

He sounded troubled and preoccupied again, and I was willing to bet it was something I'd have to get accustomed to.

We ate an early lunch in the dining area of the main building, before Jazz and Edward played a few games of pool while Alice and I browsed the souvenir store.

"Jazz'll keep him occupied, don't worry," Alice reassured me, after the tenth obvious time that I looked back over at Edward, becoming too distracted by him.

I nodded, half shrugging simultaneously. He was too calm, but you could see it brewing just beneath the surface. He was really beginning to worry me.

"How long have you had morning sickness for?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"I haven't had any, yet. It's the smell of sulphur in the springs," I explained, quietly.

So long as I didn't have to inhale the smell of it I was OK, but since we'd deliberately chosen this resort for the hot springs, it threatened to ruin the entire trip.

Alice only gazed at me for a moment, her forehead beginning to furrow, before she asked delicately, "How far along are you?"

I looked down at the fridge magnet I held in my hands, for no other reason but to avoid the intensity of her eyes. "I'm not sure. 6 weeks … possibly more…" I wanted to ask her if we could please not talk about it; to respect my right of denial, but Alice being as insightful as she was I didn't have to. She steered the conversation away, and didn't mention it again.

* * *

In the early afternoon we went hiking. It was good for me to keep moving because the cold practically paralysed me, but by the time dinner arrived I was exhausted, and not terribly hungry. On top of this, I found that food I used to love suddenly tasted metallic and unappetising.

I was sure it all had to be my imagination.

Though, Edward as usual ate enough for both of us, and it was a good distraction—it was completely corny, but I liked to watch the way his jaw clenched when he chewed. He'd often turn to me with a quirked brow and a puzzled smile forming across his lips, but I never tweaked his ego by telling him. He still knew how to be that altogether too cocky and over-confident guy I first knew—in biblical proportions.

I was good at hiding my reaction to him behind a pretence of cynicism, but if he really knew...

"You look _buggered_, buttercup," he murmured against my ear, teasing me; I was practically asleep at the table.

I broke into a warm, drowsy grin, and nudged him. "Shut up."

"Wanna head back to our room?" he suggested, before his lips planted momentarily to my temple.

I only took a breath, humming out my reply with it, before I turned my face to nuzzle his, sleepily.

After saying goodnight to Alice and Jazz, we set off to our cabin.

"I don't think I'm going back to school next week, Edward," I said to him absently, as I stared up at an uncharacteristically clear, star filled night.

He paused, almost stopping. "Why…?"

"I have to go back to Australia," I elaborated, snuggling further against him, to shield myself from the cold—cold that I still wasn't acclimatised to.

This time he did stop. "You're going to your mother's funeral?" he asked, his tone completely cynical—almost in disbelief.

I scoffed. "No, but she left everything to me in her will, so I have to go."

There was silence, and when I finally peered up at him, his brow was bunched. "Seriously—what did she leave you?"

We started walking again.

"My grandparent's farm," I answered, softly. "It's just useless land now, but I know she always leased it to dairy farmers to graze their cattle. Someone will buy it."

Taking a deliberate breath, as if gauging what I'd said, he finally asserted, "I'm coming with you."

"Edward..." I sighed, "you don't have to." But deep down I was almost collapsing in relief. I wanted Edward with me; I was terrified of going alone. I was just worried about him missing too much school.

"Bella, I'm coming," he insisted, firmly, before he opened his mouth, seeming to add something further, when he let it go.

"What?" I prompted him.

"Is ... it even safe for you to fly so far?" he asked, his brow heavily furrowed, but I had no idea what emotion he was portraying.

And it irritated me.

"Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be?" I snapped, shrugging his arm from my shoulder.

He only sighed, dragging his hand backwards and then forwards through his hair, before pulling the keys to the cabin from his pocket.

I had a shower, and when I emerged, wrapped up in a fluffy, thick robe, Edward was making hot chocolate in the kitchenette. He flashed me an almost uncertain, but nonetheless charming smile, and I immediately felt terrible.

He was taking it all far better than I was, and I was repaying him buy acting like a psychopath.

With a fractured sigh that threatened to unleash tears on me, I curled myself against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

"I'm so sorry," I spoke, a barely audible whisper, before pushing my face into his chest.

He released his breath, deeply, and hearing the anxiety behind it, I became even more impacted. "You have to stop apologising, baby."

The tears overflowed, silently, until I could no longer hold back the sobs. Edward only engulfed me tighter in his arms, but hearing his heart reacting within him, only made it more real—more painful.

"Bella..." his voice sounded inundated—I could hear the anguish flooded in it. He cupped my face between his hands and made me look at him. "Do you think I'm all of a sudden going to stop loving you? That I'll no longer want to be with you now?"

"I'm-I'm worried you'll end up resenting me," I stammered, my breath jerking, "and then_ I'll _resent..." But I couldn't finish it, and becoming overwhelmed with shame, I broke his gaze.

"Bella—look at me." His tone was firm this time, and when I again met his eyes, they were burning, below a heavily ridged brow. He looked completely afflicted. "You are _not_ your mother."

I only nodded pitifully, wanting so desperately to believe him; to hang on to those words forever.

"OK…?" he urged me when I didn't answer, his voice softening as a tender smile ghosted on his lips.

I nodded, yielding into a small smile.

He kissed me gently, but briefly on the lips, before he released me and retrieved the two mugs that were still sitting on the counter; handing one to me.

Bringing it to my lips, I inhaled it in deeply, before taking a sip, as Edward guided me to the couch; it sat in front of an open fireplace, that Edward had started while I was in the shower. Sitting down first, Edward gently pulled me beside him, before I curled my legs beneath me and snuggled further against him.

We drank our hot chocolate in silence for a moment, watching the crackling fire, as Edward pulled my legs over his lap, curving his palm around my bare, lower thigh.

"It freaked me fuck out this morning, Baby," he admitted, scoffing softly to himself, his eyes steadily on the fire before he turned them to me, "but I've had a chance to think about it, and ... I mean, I don't think it's a disaster or anything."

I only hummed softly in answer, in uncertain contemplation.

His hand squeezed around my leg; his thumb kneading my skin gently. He seemed preoccupied with this for a moment, before he again turned his burning eyes to mine. "Between us, we have enough money to get an apartment, and live while I'm finishing paramedic school. We can make it work." He raised his eyebrows in emphasis, and whether it was to reassure me or him, I wasn't sure.

But I wasn't convinced.

"So ... you want us to shack up?" I asked, my tone becoming sarcastic, as the beginnings of irritation grew steadily within me again.

But what did I expect him to say?

His brow quirked cynically, his tone turning dry. "Isn't that what we're already doing?"

I shrugged shortly, huffing out my breath.

"I'd rather _shack up_ with you all the time—but your father is too much of an asshole about me still!" he stated, his expression darkening with the anger and frustration I knew my father brought out in him.

"He's the one paying for it—as well as my college tuition," I retorted in a vain attempt at defending The General, when I knew how unreasonable he was regarding Edward.

Though, I could just hear my father's thoughts now—as soon as he found out I was pregnant: _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. _

I was _mortified_ that I'd be disappointing him.

Edward turned back to me, his forehead knotting with anger. "I don't need him to pay for _shit_—I can take care of my own responsibilities."

"Is that what I am? Your_ responsibility_?" I fumed, shoving his hand from my leg.

He shook his head once to himself, his eyes half rolling. "No,_ you're_ the fucking love of my life." His voice was thick with sarcasm. "_This_"—he placed his palm across my lower abdomen—"is my responsibility."

We were feeding off each other, fuelling the momentum. I knew the signs from the all the numerous fights we'd had in the past, but right then my tenuous emotions were all that was in control, and I didn't know how else to respond.

And it was making me angrier.

"Right now, it's _my _responsibility," I replied, lowly, between clenched teeth before I pulled myself off the couch, almost buckling for a moment as a sharp stabbing pain shot through my stomach.

Quickly righting myself, I took a step towards the door, but Edward grabbed my hand, spinning me around to face him. "What's that supposed to mean, Bella?" he demanded. He was angry, but at the same time his voice was strained.

"What I _mean_ is," I replied mockingly, "it's in my body—_not_ yours!"

"Well, I'm sorry I don't have a fucking uterus! It's still half my baby, Bella!"

"It isn't a_ BABY_!" I screeched.

"It's A-FUCKING-LIVE!" he yelled back, making his face go bold red, as the vein down his forehead bulged.

I didn't say anything; I just stood gazing at him defiantly, even when it became evident how effected he was—when the pain shining from his eyes would have normally brought me to my knees as it rebounded through me.

"Don't I get a say in this at all?" he challenged me, but he sounded suddenly defeated.

I expelled a short, impatient breath, shaking my head. "You have not once asked me what I even want to _do_!" I stressed, yanking my hand from his grip before I attempted to shove past him; he grabbed the tops of my arms, preventing me from moving.

"What do you want to do,_ Bella_—have a fucking _abortion_?" His eyes were wide and afflicted, but he was becoming so angry that for one single moment I was scared of how he might react.

"Maybe I do," I spat back, coldly—without emotion, because for this_ baby_ growing within me, I had absolutely none at all.

Just like my mother's death, I felt nothing...

Edward released me, almost shoving me in the prospect, before he turned his back on me, gazing down at the fire with his hands on his hips. "Go ahead and do it, then."

I couldn't see his expression, but I could hear it reflected in his voice. I'd just ripped his heart out and stabbed him in the back with it.

I was fully aware of it, but I was too pig-headed, and stubborn—and so paralysed by the fear of my past—of my mother's legacy—to care.

As I made for the bedroom, Edward headed for the front door, but just as he reached it, he turned around. "I take it back, Bella."

I looked back to him; his entire expression was contorted with pain and anger, as his eyes, intense and penetrating, locked to mine.

And then he said it.

"You are _exactly_ like your mother—you both hate your own kid!"

He left the cabin then, slamming the door behind him so hard the entire room shook.

I only stood frozen, feeling like I'd had every molecule of air torn from my lungs, and as I struggled to breathe, struggled to comprehend what had just happened, the tears began to flood me.

I had been so consumed by not becoming my mother that I was becoming something worse.

And I think I'd just lost the other part of my soul.

Edward.

* * *

I called Jacob to pick me up. I was in such an incoherent mess that it took several attempts before he understood me. He was such a sweetheart, too; promising me—despite it being 10:30 at night—he was coming right then and there, that it only made this gut wrenching pain all the more unbearable.

I packed up my bag hastily, throwing my clothes into it, completely blinded by my tears, when Alice suddenly burst through the door.

"Bella!" she exclaimed, full of alarm. "Oh my God—what happened? Edward is—_falling apart_!" The tone of her vice rose at the end; the fear she felt for her brother was blatant.

"I've got to go home, Alice," I told her, clumsily attempting to wipe my eyes dry, as I zipped up my bag. "Take care of Edward. I'm toxic at the moment. I-I need some time to—I don't know—get my head around all of this!"

"Bella..." she said softly, shaking her head to herself as if she was trying to understand it better, before taking an apprehensive step toward me, "don't you want to ... _have it_…?"

I paused and looked over at her, before I truthfully—honestly—shook my head. "I don't know," I whispered.

I didn't.

I just knew that I couldn't even_ talk_ about it without imploding.

Picking up my bag, I moved toward the door, when she jumped in front of me. "Bella, please don't leave," she pleaded with me, her expression beseeching. "You and Edward need to talk this over properly."

I only shook my head. "I'm no good for Edward at the moment, Alice—I'm no good for anyone."

* * *

I waited by the main reception building for Jacob, noticing his car immediately as it came down the drive. In the next moment, he was striding towards me, his expression completely overrun by love and concern that I almost collapsed beneath the sheer weight of pain and heartbreak he had added to that was coursing through me.

Jacob caught me, encompassing me in his mammoth embrace that I was all too willing to surrender to. I always felt completely safe with Jake, but even now as I enfolded myself within the security of his arms, I felt like I was free-falling.

"Bells…" he whispered, the confusion and dismay compromising his voice.

"Let's just go, Jake. Please," I sobbed, shuddering against him as I subconsciously sought out the warmth of his skin that was never going to unburden me.

Taking my bag and practically carrying me to his car, we headed back to Forks.

* * *

For the next several days, under the scrutinising watch of Uncle Billy and Jake, I barely left the confines of my room as I attempted to somehow find an acceptance in this situation. Even to embrace it—if only because it was something intimate between me and Edward. Something I should have been even cherishing despite the now uncertainty of our future—of our relationship.

But I couldn't clear a pathway through the cataclysm of fear and inevitability I was struggling with to come to any point of acceptance. And I sure as hell couldn't find reason to embrace it.

I'd been unbelievably horrible to Edward, yet at the same time I couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd somehow betrayed me—betrayed us. Which was completely ridiculous. He wanted to make it work; I just wanted a reason to blame him, resent him—hate him for getting me in this predicament.

That too was absurd, while the irony wasn't lost on me. I'd insisted to him that it was my problem alone, and that he couldn't help me, but the reality was, Edward no more did this to me than I did it to myself.

I was 19, pregnant, while the poisonous aftermath of my, now dead, mother still held an overwhelming influence in my life; _that_ was my reality.

Even now, after two years of finding acceptance and family on the other side of the world, I couldn't rid myself of her; I couldn't emancipate myself from the life of abuse I suffered from her.

Every action in life has a consequence. It was no different for me, but with my mother forever lurking in the shadows of my past, the consequences in my life were always tainted by her.

A power over me that I continually allowed her to have—even from the grave.

No one but Edward and Alice—and more than likely Jazz, as well—knew of my pregnancy. I couldn't bring myself to tell Uncle Billy, or even Jake. The shame I felt over it was still too prevailing. It's not like they hadn't asked me repeatedly what was happening, but in the end, they just assumed I'd had another fight with Edward; which in turn I knew would only fuel their distrust of him.

I hadn't spoken to Edward since the night I left the resort, and he didn't try to contact me. I spoke to Alice a few times; she told me Edward had gone back to Seattle early, and not before promising her with his life that he'd give me a few days to get my head straight. He'd apparently wanted to come after me the moment he found out I'd gone home, and it had taken both Jazz and Alice to almost physically restrain him.

I can't tell you how that news affected me. Apart of me wished with every part of who I was that he'd come after me, but the other, too-influenced-by-my-mother's-legacy was glad he didn't. I was reverting back to the old days when Renee dominated me and I was too powerless to stop her. I was in denial, and I was building a wall and shutting everyone out.

Shutting Edward out, and refusing to accept that I was having his baby.

* * *

That night I dreamed about when I was a little girl. It was through an unusual, third person perspective; as if I was watching home movies. I looked to be around five years old, carrying Edward the teddy bear as I ran through long grass in bright sunshine. My hair was long and wild, but unlike my actual childhood, there was no visible bruises over my body, and I was happy and carefree; my soft laughter filling the void.

Yet there was something strange about this little girl. Something almost … haunting, and it wasn't until she ran closer to the view point of my dream that I realised she wasn't me at all. Her eyes were green—the exact same colour as Edward's.

Edward's eyes that suddenly widened in fear, as her entire expression twisted in sudden anguish.

In the next moment there was darkness, as if I was in that place between dreaming and awake, when a child's voice suddenly pierced through the silence of my mind.

"Mummy, mummy, help me! I'm dying!"

I was instantly awake, my breath drawing in violently, as I clutched at my chest above my pounding heart.

I glanced around the darkened room desperately, unsure of what I was searching for, as I quickly became consumed by panic—by the realisation that something was very wrong.

"Edward!" I called out through jagged breaths, while tears began to flow down my cheeks. I was barely aware of them as the lost echoes of that terrified, innocent voice slowly faded from my mind.

My heart continued to hammer within me, professing a sudden and deep anguish that I scarcely understood; even as it began to rip through to my soul and spread outwards.

It was then that I became aware of the pain.

At first it was a dull ache, pulsating with the anxious tempo of my heart, before it steadily grew until it became a raw, stabbing pain that caught my breath—until I couldn't breathe, or conceive, or process anything but the pain.

It knocked the wind out of, almost paralysing me, as I struggled through strangled, agonising sobs to get out of bed.

The moment I was upright, my legs collapsed beneath me, the pain suddenly intensifying, a blinding white light behind my eyes, that I had clamped shut; a pitiful attempt to combat it.

"Oh, God—Jake!" I tried to call out, but I could barely breathe past it, and my voice was little more than a gasp.

The pain was so completely overwhelming, a piercing but cramping sensation that had me instinctively looking down to my legs.

They were covered in blood.

_No—oh God, no! _

Gasping sharply, beyond horrified, I immediately burst into grief stricken tears.

"Edward!" I cried out into the still night. "Jake!"

I looked around deliriously for my phone. I needed Edward, but my movements were sluggish, my mind foggy. The pain was beyond my control, blinding me—completely compromising my senses.

Somehow, I managed to crawl to the other side of the room, where the wall connected my room to Jake's. I banged on it, helplessly, weakly—the effort of it exhausting me—as everything around me started to blur.

I barely recall what happened next; the events became hazy and shrouded by repeated loss of consciousness.

What started out as a dream, had turned to a horrifying nightmare that I couldn't wake from.

I vaguely remember Jake carrying me to his car, before being awakened by a blazing white light above me; and then Carlisle's face, peering down at me with a concentrated seriousness echoing from his eyes.

"Bella, the embryo has ruptured through your left fallopian tube."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you're reading this and haven't read SLY here's a quick recap: ****Bella is Australian, her father, Charlie, is in the US navy and knocks up Renee, resulting in Bella. Renee is physically and emotionally abusive to Bella all her life, and once Charlie works out what's been happening he sends Bella to live with his brother Billy and nephew, Jacob in Forks. She meets Edward on her first day of Forks High, she hates him. Edward's used to girls falling at his feet, so Bella throws him off. He works hard to get her to come around to him, and earn her trust, but it's not made easier by the fact that Jacob and Edward can't stand each other, and Edward can't control his temper and has no impulse control. Bella's best friend in Australia dies and she returns to Australia. Edward comes with her and helps her get over her death as well as her mother.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 2**

**Edward's POV**

I promised the little rat I'd give Bella five days; five days to calm down, get her head straight—and not feel like she was carrying a fucking chest bursting alien within her.

It was really reassuring to know that she was so averse to being with me and having my baby, but then what did I really expect? I don't think Bella ever really opened herself completely to me, and what we had I had to fight for. It was never easy with her; I had to fight for her from the very beginning, and I was so fucking exhausted because of it. So tired of always feeling like I was in limbo with her.

Even now after all the shit we've gone through, she was still so guarded around me, and she was fucking pissed that I got her pregnant. Actually pissed doesn't seem like the right word—repulsed is more accurate.

This was the clincher with the two of us; the precipice—to know where I really stood with her, and if we did have a future together. I think it was pretty fucking obvious now.

She didn't want to be with me, and she didn't want to have my baby. What she did want was an abortion with no fucking interference from me.

It was like having my heart cut out with a blunt knife—to finally realize that this girl, who was the fucking living sun to me, was only lukewarm with me—at best. But I was still willing to fight for her. I was willing to fight for her even if she would never fight for me, because that's how fucking unhealthy our relationship was.

Alice and fucking pissant Jazz had intercepted me from taking off after her; though, deep down I knew Bella needed some time to get her head around everything, but my deepest instincts were to always go after her.

I thought they would cough up a little bit of fucking empathy for me, but as it turned out Alice, fucking ridiculously, seemed more pissed that I didn't ask her to marry me, than she was that Bella told me she wanted to have an abortion.

Bella had already fucking rejected me for everything else, so yeah, why not just put it all out there and have my heart squashed into oblivion? Because that's what would have fucking happened if I asked her to marry me and she'd said "no".

According to Alice, I was supposed to believe that even though she didn't want to make it work with me and have the baby, she would somehow still want to marry me.

And even that prick Jazz agreed with her.

"You_ idiot_, Edward!" Alice practically yelled at me, her face morphing into that expression she usually threw at me—when she couldn't work out if I was stupider than her disbelieve over my stupidity.

"She's right, dude," Jazz piped up.

"You get your girlfriend pregnant the_ FIRST_ thing you do is tell her you want to marry her—not _shack up_," the little rat elaborated, doing that head shaking shit, which told me her disbelief at how stupid I was had won out.

"She's right, dude," Jazz echoed, like the fucking mindless dick with legs he was.

I felt like ripping my fucking hair out. "She doesn't even want to live with me—why the fuck would I think she wants to get married?"

Alice just gazed at me for a moment, obviously underestimating the limits of my stupidity. "You _offended_ her—you made her believe she wasn't good enough for you to ask her to marry you—I would have reacted exactly the same way if Jazz had told me what you told her."

"She's right, dude."

"Shut the fuck up, Jazz!" I roared at him. I was five seconds from ripping that fucker's tongue out.

He only raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say '_you're the fuck up here, dude, not me'_.

I was too busy glaring at him, and thinking up a way to wipe that smug look from his face, when Alice cut into my thoughts.

"Do you even understand the significance of her being pregnant, Edward?" Her tone was softer this time, as if that significance she was referring to was the reason for it.

"Yeah—she thinks she'll turn into her mother," I answered, feeling my forehead furrow with progressive fucking guilt. Her mother, who I told her she was exactly alike, when nothing could have been furthest from the truth.

And it fucking injured her—she just stared at me, with this fucking betrayal shining in her eyes—making me feel like the piece of shit I am.

But she shredded me by telling me she didn't want the baby—that she didn't want to give it, or us, a chance.

And what can I say? I'm a short tempered bastard.

Alice huffed, again breaking me from my tortured fucking thoughts. "I didn't ask whether you _knew_ it, I asked whether you _understood _it—like, do you know that it's basically the biggest fear of her life?"

I paused, faltering, and suddenly feeling pissed off at the little rat, because I _didn't_ know that.

I didn't know, but I should have, because as fucking naïve as I was, I thought all the shit with her mother was over with. I mean, once we came home from Australia, she never mentioned her again—ever.

I was suddenly recalling Nummi's words the day of the bonfire, telling me about what happened to Bella's teddy bear, and how after she'd stopped speaking about it—as if she never had a teddy bear at all.

Because that's how she deals with things.

_Shit!_

Rubbing the back of my head subconsciously, I let go of my breath, feeling fucking defeated and exhausted again. "Fuck," I whispered. "I have to go after her—_fuck!" _I was suddenly pissed at myself—pissed that after all this time I was still fucking down-playing Bella's past—not properly comprehending the significance of it at all!

No wonder she barely wanted to have anything to do with me...

"No, Edward. She needs some time on her own to figure this all out," Alice insisted, and she suddenly had that fearful look in her eyes as they practically pleaded with me; pleaded with me to not do anything stupid and make it a thousand times worse.

Because that's pretty much what my sister expected from me, and that pissed me off.

"In case anyone's fucking forgotten here, this is _my _baby as well—as much as Bella seems to think I don't have a fucking say in anything, _it's still my kid_!"

"Dude … I know it's shitty, but whatever Bella decides, you can't change it," Jazz said, looking suddenly empathetic—as if he fucking pitied me.

But he was right. If Bella wanted to have an abortion there wasn't a single fucking thing I could do to stop her. My baby or not, she could end it with or without my support.

"Don't get ahead of yourselves," Alice suddenly snapped, shoving Jazz to the side when he tried to put his arm around her. "Bella isn't going to do anything without coming to you first, Edward." She looked impatient with me now—not that I had any idea why.

"What?" I demanded defensively, when she just kept on giving me that fucking eyebrow.

"Why are you so quick to think the worst of her?" she accused me, folding her arms across her chest and looking at me like I was a fucking insect. "She thinks you're _the living embodiment of all masculinity_ and you still sit there brooding to yourself all the damn time about how she doesn't really love you—well boo-fucking-hoo, Edward. This was _old _in high school!"

"She's right, dude."

I only took a measured breath, huffing it sharply through my nose in an effort to hold myself together, wanting to stay pissed off if only for the reason to snap Jazz's neck, while coming to the realization that fucking Alice was right like she usually was.

It was easy for me to believe Bella would fuck me over, because I always struggled to accept that she really did love me; at least, in the same way I loved her.

Fucking pussy that I was.

Alice sighed, heavily, loudly, seeming to change tactics, as her tone calmed. "Once Bella is able to throw off this fear that she's going to somehow become her mother, I really seriously doubt she will still want an abortion. So, please Edward, give her some time, and then be there for her when she needs you, because she's going to need you—and n_ot just to shack up_ with you."

"OK," I conceded, letting go of my breath, "I'll give her a few days."

"Give her more than a few—five. Give her five," Alice advised me.

"Is that the standard time for all abortion deliberations, pixie-stick?" I asked, like a sarcastic bastard.

"Grow up, Edward!" she snapped in irritation.

So that's how I got here.

Giving the little rat the benefit of the doubt, I'd planned on giving Bella five days, but that was before, after 4, I heard Bella's voice screaming out to me, and waking me from a dead sleep. Actually waking was putting it mildly, because what had really happened was I was propelled off the sofa and onto the floor with the air sucked from my lungs in fucking full blown panic.

And what made it worse was I didn't know if I was dreaming or not. It sounded so real—so gut-wrenchingly fucking vivid—that I quickly threw on a pair of jeans and went looking for her; running around in the quiet, snow-filled night, bare footed and chested looking for the fucking apparition of my girlfriend who had called out to me.

She sounded like she was in pain, and by the time I'd given up on the idea that she was here I was in the midst of having fucking palpitations.

Something was wrong, and I didn't know what or why; I just knew that it was.

Running back upstairs, my feet fucking numb, I snatched up my phone and called her. It went to her message bank, so figuring she was asleep and I hadn't woken her, I called her again.

And then again.

But after I was unable to get hold of her after eight fucking attempts, and with my fear growing so rapidly I could feel each thud of my heart against my rib cage, I decided to call her asshole cousin.

_He_ picked it up immediately, sounding … wide awake.

"About time you rang!" he hollered down the phone. It was 3:30 in the morning, so if his reaction wasn't fucking weird I don't know what was.

"Jake, I can't get onto Bella—is she OK?" I was fucking pleading with him, desperately, but I couldn't help it. I felt like I was on the verge of having a fucking heart attack.

"No she's _not_ OK!" he roared, sounding irrationally fucking angry, and before I could say another word, he started ranting. "Yeah, good job on getting her pregnant, asshole, but don't worry it's gone now—though, Bella is lucky not to have gone with it!"

"_What!?"_ I think I just managed to utter, while feeling like he had just reached through the phone and ripped my lungs out.

"They took it out—but poor Bella needed like three liters of fucking blood!"

And with that he hung up, leaving me standing there with the fucking phone still to my ear, with my heart about to rip through my chest, in complete fucking overwhelming disbelief.

It took me a few moments to properly comprehend Jacob's words, but by that time I didn't know whether I was going to fucking pass out, puke or punch a hole in the wall. I just paced back and forth as the meaning of his words became clearer.

Bella had had an abortion. She'd gotten rid of it, just like that, without coming to me to talk it over—as if I meant nothing to her at all.

As if I meant _fuck all_ to her!

"FUCK!" I roared out, dropping to my knees and grabbing my hair in my fists. My heart continued to pound furiously, but it was in complete fucking shreds and beginning to ache—ache so badly I was clutching at it, with tears pouring down my face, and I was so fucking irate I was beginning to feel unstable all of a sudden.

Then I went into denial.

Picking myself up I paced again, shaking my head, trying to see through this fucked up situation differently, telling myself repeatedly that Bella would_ never_ do this to me.

She would never break that trust with us. No matter how angry or upset with me she was, she'd never do that.

But this wasn't just any fight—any trivial fucking shit; this was what she feared more than anything else in her life, and me, her boyfriend, was too fucking stupid to ever realize the significance behind it.

Maybe if I did she would have been able to come to me over it.

But all I wanted to do was _shack up._

It was then an old familiar emotion I used to carry for Bella resurfaced. Struggling between hating her and trying to understand why I loved her. Altogether it just fucked me up, and mashed everything together until I couldn't discern one form the other, or feel anything but pure, fucking heart wrenching betrayal.

It was the worst fucking pain in my life, and that was saying something, because in one go Bella had killed me, the baby and everything we were.

I left Alice's apartment, not knowing where I was going, just needing to get the fuck out of there.

I don't know how far I drove for, or even in what direction; I stopped when I was low on gas, before finding some sleazy hotel to crash in.

When I got out of my car, my phone fell from my pocket. I picked it up, and thought about calling Alice to tell her where I was, but when I unlocked it, I noticed a text message from Bella.

**I fucking hate you. I fucking curse the day you ever walked into my fucking school!**

It was only after I read it a few times, becoming fucking neurotic over it, did I realize that Bella hadn't sent it to me; I'd sent it to her.

I didn't even remember writing it.

Before I entered the hotel, and in a fit of sudden rage, I threw my phone at the wall, not giving a shit that it exploded into a million pieces, and held every photo, every message—every fucking piece of communication I ever had with her—stored on it.

For the next several days all I was interested in doing was numbing myself, because even when I kept Bella forcefully from my mind, I was still aching in every fucking square inch of my body. It was so fucking agonizing that it got to the point that I'd rather be dead than have to endure it a minute longer.

At first I tried alcohol. I drank until I passed out, spent the next day throwing my guts up, ate dinner and then went and bought another bottle of Bourbon, Vodka, or Whiskey, or whatever the fuck I could get my hands on. But after four days of that I found it was more fucking unbearable than dealing with Bella, so I turned to pot. But that shit only brought me so down, I was a blubbering, pitiful mess, ready to slit my fucking wrists. On top of that, it made me so fucking hungry I was forced to go shopping in the local supermarket, but when I got there my brain was so fried I couldn't remember my fucking pin number. I ended up being thrown out by the manager, who threatened to call the cops if I ever came back—like I was a fucking vagrant!

In the end I went back to alcohol, drinking beer by the fucking carton. I ended up getting myself so fucking plastered I swear I had some kind of near death experience. It was completely clichéd bullshit, of a bearded dude with a white robe, surrounded by golden light, with fucking birds chirping in the background, telling me I had to stop; I was self-destructing.

I really hope to fuck it wasn't God, because I told him to go fuck himself.

Or maybe my body had become so toxic, I was beginning to trip.

But still, I didn't stop.

Eventually I lost track of time. I had no fucking idea what time it was let alone what day, or how long I'd even been there, trying my damnedest to dull the pain with the sounds of fucking prostitutes turning tricks rebounding off the walls. I sank pretty fucking low, but it never registered with me. I should have been fucking repulsed, but all I could think, and feel, and fucking breathe was this unrelenting pain in my heart.

I realized I'd have to go back eventually, but for the moment I couldn't face any of it. I could not look into Bella's eyes knowing she'd ripped my soul to shreds; nor my fucking sister's who'd promised me she would never do that to me.

In the end it was a dream of my father that snapped some sense into me.

He was angry; he was fucking pissed at me. My father looked almost exactly like Emmett and was just as big, and in the dream I felt like I was a kid, cowering in fear, as I waited to get an ass kicking.

"You, get your ass back home—right this minute!" he demanded, his eyes hard and boring straight down to my fucking soul, before grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and heaving me off the ground. "And if I ever hear of you doing this kind of shit again, you will be in for such a world of pain it'll make this business with Bella feel like Christmas."

I woke in breathless fucking panic, pouring with sweat, my heart lunging, while the sound of my father's voice continued to echo around me; in my mind, assaulting my fucking ears, and rushing over my skin. In fact, I could still smell his aftershave—it was that cheap shit Brut stuff that Mom used to tease him over, but he never wore anything else.

Swinging my legs to the side of the filthy fucking bed, I sat up and cradled my aching head in my hands, releasing my breath in a huge gush, while trying not to fucking break down into tears. I suddenly began to be plagued by a fucked up sense of shame, that I let it take control. It was easier to push all this shit with Bella to the back of my mind with this kind of mindset—that my father was disgusted in me.

With the migraine from hell, I ventured out and found a 7 Eleven, bought, soap, toothpaste, and a packet of razors, before I went back to the putrid hotel room, had a shower—a cold fucking shower—scrubbed my teeth, and shaved.

I left an hour later, surprised my car was still sitting—undamaged—In the hotel parking lot—but then considering the high level of traffic to the place, for people paying by the fucking hour, it wasn't hard to understand why.

It took me seven hours to get back to Seattle, but I stopped along the way to eat, drink a gallon of water and buy a fresh set of clothes. I'd been wearing the same clothes for fuck knows how long and my skin had been crawling with the very idea of it.

When I got back to Alice's apartment, I entered a warzone.

My entire family was packed into the living room, and as soon I walked in I was literally ambushed by Emmett. He literally grabbed me by the fucking throat and slammed me so hard against the wall, for a moment I was seeing stars.

"WHERE THE _FUCK_ WERE YOU!?" he roared at me, raising his fist, no doubt about to beat the shit out of me, when Carlisle and Jazz dragged him off me.

"Edward—for the love of God! How could you do this? Do you have any idea what you've put us all through?" It was my mother this time, and she looked torn between wanting to slap me repeatedly across the face, and hugging me—and bursting into tears.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could even speak a syllable, Alice suddenly shoved me back against the wall, before she started fucking pounding against me, her eyes on fire, and with a look in them that I'd never seen before. "You_ fucking_ asshole!"

She said a lot more but it was muffled out by Jazz pulling her off me and folding her against him, before _he _turned to fucking glare at me.

"All right, everyone calm down," Carlisle said, raising his hands, before approaching me with a weary sigh. For a person who barely gave up a fucking crease in his face from emotion, he suddenly looked exasperated, shaking his head slightly to himself. "Edward, you've been gone for more than two weeks. No one knew where you were. We've all been searching for you—your mother filed a missing person's report—why didn't you let _someone_ know?"

"Jesus!" I burst. "So I needed some time alone. You all know what Bella did! What the fuck did you think I was doing?" I exclaimed, becoming pissed off that these self-righteous assholes couldn't put themselves in my shoes for one fucking minute.

Mom and Alice started fucking ranting, their voices droning together and giving me a fucking headache, while Emmett only gave me a dangerous fucking glare that made me almost shrink backwards.

Carlisle only held up his hand to shut them up, his eyes remaining on me; his brow quirking suddenly. "What do you mean, _'what Bella did'_?"

I met his gaze, faltering for a moment before I answered. "She ... had an abortion."

"_WHAT_!?" Alice screeched in that fucking tone she was so good at, and suddenly my stomach was dropping down to my fucking toes.

"Edward," Carlisle said, and this time he looked fucking frustrated, "Bella didn't have an abortion—her pregnancy was ectopic."

I blinked, shaking my head suddenly; it was as if he was speaking another language. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"The embryo was growing outside of the uterus—Bella ended up with quite substantial internal bleeding," he explained, his brow bunching up as if he was recalling it, a disturbed fucking look in his eyes, while I suddenly felt sick.

"Yeah—you asshole—she was devastated and then she had to worry about you!" Alice started ranting again, before her voice broke and she allowed Jazz to console her again.

I only shook my head back and forth, my lungs suddenly feeling restricted. I met Alice's gaze, but I couldn't tolerate her fucking judgment for more than a second. I turned to mom; she was sitting on the sofa, massaging her forehead with her fingers, with tears quite evidently falling down her face. Emmett only stood looking at the ground with his arms folded over his chest, and Jazz continued to fucking glower at me. I looked back at Carlisle, the panic already peaking within me.

"But … but—fucking _Jacob_ told me she had it removed," I pleaded with him suddenly, but to do what? To Understand?

"Edward!" My mother was suddenly off the sofa and in front of me, her voice strained and her expression completely overrun. "All you had to do was pick up the phone and call any _one _of us. What you have put that poor girl through—when are you going to _grow the hell up_!"

I just gazed at her; I heard every word she spoke but I couldn't process it. All my mind could suddenly focus on was Bella. All my heart could comprehend, as it slammed behind my ribs, making me feel fucking light headed, was Bella.

Bella with every tortured, panicked breath I drew in.

What had I done?!

I turned back to Carlisle, feeling completely fucking gutted. "Is-is she OK?"

He cleared his throat, and spoke quietly, "She is now. She was in hospital for five days; she required quite a lot of blood, but..." his eyebrows drew together and he broke my gaze. This wasn't like Carlisle; he could look you in the eye and tell you the world was about to fucking blow up, with that calm fucking sedate voice of his.

"But _what_?" I almost yelled, my voice catching.

"We weren't able to save her fallopian tube," he explained without looking at me.

I shook my head, quickly trying to recall what little I knew of the female reproductive system. "W-what does that mean—she can't have babies now?"

"No, but her chances of falling pregnant naturally have fallen by half," Carlisle said, suddenly looking directly at me, with a clear message behind his eyes.

S_o don't go fucking knocking her up again._

Leaning up against the wall, I dropped my head into my hand, pushing my fingers into the front of my hair, attempting to fucking somehow see where I got it so wrong.

"He—he told me _fucking twice_. He told me Bella had it removed!" I exclaimed, more or less to myself, my voice rising, becoming more and more pissed off.

At myself.

"Perhaps he didn't know how to properly explain it. He's only a young boy after all," Carlisle suggested, before turning and putting his hand around my mother's shoulders.

"All you had to do was call me, Edward!" Alice broke in, seething at me, with that fucked up look of contempt on her face.

"We're going to go," my mother said abruptly with a weary tone. "I have to inform a lot of people that you've turned up unharmed." And when she looked at me her expression was of pure disappointment—when she _could_ look at me, that is.

Carlisle placed his hand momentarily on my shoulder as he passed, but I had no fucking idea what he was conveying. Support? Understanding? Affection?

Whatever it was I didn't deserve it.

Emmett only shoved me, his expression still dark and pissed off. "Later, asshole."

Then I was alone with Alice and Jazz. Jazz who still hadn't said a word to me; which, made me feel fucking worse than all of Alice's condemnation.

"Alice..." I said quietly, when she turned around to head to her bedroom.

Spinning back around, she spat, "What?"

"Tell me … about Bella. Is she really OK?" My chest was aching again; I was sure it was about to burst open and spill everywhere—how badly I'd hurt her. How badly I'd fucked things up with us again.

"No," Alice replied coldly, matter-of-factly. "She's _not_ OK."

My breath caught; my fucking heart paused. It was like being knifed in the chest. "Does ... does she want to see me?"

Jazz suddenly snorted sarcastically. "If she does she has rocks in her head."

Alice only scoffed dryly, cynically. "Let's see. She loses her baby, which in the process almost kills her, but it makes her realize how much she really did love and want that baby and how heartbroken she is. Then her boyfriend—who she knows knows what happened, because her cousin told her—doesn't come and see her, call, write a note—a fucking email—nothing! Then on top of this, she finds out that _supposed_ boyfriend is officially listed as _missing_, and she becomes so hysterical Carlisle had to sedate her. So the question isn't, _does she want to see you_, Edward. It's, _will she ever forgive you_." She continued to stare at me coldly, with that look of disdain increasing on her face, to the point that I barely recognized her, before her brow arched as if to say, '_you've brought this on yourself'_, and she didn't have an ounce of pity for me.

Severing my eyes from hers, I reached out and rubbed the back of my neck, trying to conceal the fact that I was struggling to contain my emotion.

Because this time, I knew with everything I was that I'd lost her.

Alice called Bella immediately after, letting her know I was … alive. She didn't want to talk to me over the phone, but told Alice she wanted to see me.

I left for Forks that instant.

Three and half hours later I was standing on the front porch of Chief Swan's house, steeling myself—demanding I keep it together—before I knocked.

He opened it a few moments later, his eyes immediately narrowing. "So it's you," he said, darkly.

"Chief Swan," I said a humbly and as remorsefully as I could fucking manage, "I-I've come to see Bella."

He only glared at me for a moment, sizing me up, before he stated, "All right, but only because she wants to see you." He suddenly leaned closer to me, pointing his finger into my chest, his voice lowering. "But I'm telling you right now, if you upset my niece in any way, shape or form—if she even _frowns_ in your presence—I will haul your ass into a jail cell so fast you won't know what hit you—_got me_?"

I nodded, swallowing thickly, knowing I deserved it all and more. "Yes, Sir."

I passed Jacob on the way to Bella's room; he only sneered at me. I felt a fucking inch tall, but I knew I had no right to be pissed off. If he wanted to kick my ass, I'd deserve it.

Apart of me wished he would—if only to take some of this fucking guilt away.

When I got to Bella's door I paused, forcing the apprehension back, before gently knocking on it, and creeping it open.

She was sitting on her bed wearing a Seattle University sweater and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, looking … broken, and the moment her eyes locked with mine her face completely crumbled, her expression flooding.

It fucking crippled me.

Feeling my expression begin to mirror hers, while it threatened to rip my chest open, I walked inside the room, sat beside her on the bed and pulled her into my arms.

"Bella—baby, I am _so_ sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking as I pulled her closer to me, burying my face against her hair.

Initially she clung to me, her entire body trembling, as she burst into tears, before she started shaking her head.

"No," she uttered with a fractured voice, but with sudden determination, shoving herself away from me, and clumsily wiping her eyes. "Where _were _you?"

"I ... I was … just giving you some time," I lied like the fucking bastard I was, but I couldn't tell her the truth.

How could I tell her that?

But immediately her expression turned cynical; though, her eyes looked as haunted and fucking tortured as they did the very first day I met her. "I know Jacob told you what happened."

I stammered out half a syllable before abandoning it. I had no excuse to offer her; I just gazed into those eyes of hers—that went on forever—pleading with her to forgive me.

But she wasn't moved; in fact, this only seemed to annoy her. "Do you also want to explain"—she reached over, grabbed her phone from her side table, clicking it open; revealing my text message—"_this_ to me?"

My eyes dropped from hers, my hand running rigidly back through my hair, as I took a guilty fucking breath. "I can't, Bella."

She looked at it, her forehead creasing, before she glanced back up to me. "You sent this when I was in surgery—you blamed me for what happened, didn't you?"

I held her gaze for a moment searching for the right words to fix this; though, I knew there wasn't any, but my instincts were always to fight for her, so I went with what I knew. "I didn't understand what was fully happening. I had no idea you were so sick, baby."

Her brow etched deeper, but she didn't fucking believe me. That was obvious enough. "Well, what did you _think_ was happening?"

I shook my head, before shrugging and admitting in defeat, "I don't know."

"Don't be a fucking coward, Edward!" she suddenly burst, making me cringe that her uncle would hear her. "Tell me!"

"I can't," I pleaded with her. "Bella ... I can't."

She shook her head to herself, her face darkening, but at the same time her expression was becoming more and more anguished. "You thought I had an abortion"—her voice caught—"didn't you?"

I didn't need to say anything; she saw it written across my face.

"You actually thought I'd do that..." she whispered in cynical disbelieve, but at the same time she was hurt.

She was a lot more than hurt, and I couldn't say anything without hurting her more, so I didn't say a word. I just lowered my head, unable to see that grief in her eyes, like the coward she accused me of being.

"Oh my God…" she whispered in bewilderment, and then I think she made some attempt at dry laughter.

"I'm sorry, Bella," I murmured, glancing up at her and exhaling deeply in resignation. "There's nothing else I can say."

She only held my gaze for a moment longer, before she scoffed, her eyes rolling slightly. "This is just like that day after condom testing in Bio—remember?"

I nodded numbly in admission.

She shook her head to herself, a little more forcefully this time. "I can't keep living my life as a repeat of that moment, Edward!" When her eyes again met mine again, they were wide, as if she was pleading with me to understand; to not fight.

"I know you can't," I conceded, my voice straining, knowing I had to accept it, even though it was fucking shredding me from the inside out. She had every right to feel this way, and I had no right to argue with her.

She only gazed at me for a while, as if deep down she didn't really know me, before she spoke, her tone softer, and sounding suddenly close to tears. "Edward ... when you were missing I felt like I was reliving Kel's death all over again—and I'm not going through that"—her voice suddenly grew stubborn and insistent—"ever again!"

I shook my head, dragging my fingers rigidly over my forehead and through my hair again; it was fucking killing me to keep looking at her and seeing that injured, heartbroken look in her eyes. "All I can tell you is how sorry I am, baby. I'm not going to make excuses—I'm not going to make this worse for you."

It was bad enough that she went through all this to start with, but to know I wasn't here for her when she needed me—that I'd completely abandoned her to my abject fucking stupidity made it that much harder to face her.

Face what I'd done to her.

But she wouldn't release me; she held steadfast to my gaze until her eyes silently welled in tears. Something which echoed in me like a sledgehammer going through my chest.

"I can't do this anymore, Edward," she whispered. It was if she had just come to that realization right then and there, and it had surprised her and broke her heart at the same time.

Without thinking about it, I raised my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb cutting a path through her tears. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Bella."

She closed her eyes, her forehead bridging as she quite evidently tried to keep herself together, but she was failing—failing as much as I was.

Tentatively, I pulled her closer, and at first she seemed to surrender to me, taking a weary sounding breath before she again shook her head; as if forcing herself to stay focused.

"Edward ... no…" she pleaded with me softly, gently removing my hand from her face.

"Bella, please tell me what I have to do make this up to you?" I was beginning to feel defeated, and it wasn't lost on me that over the last eighteen months I had spoken those exact words more times than I could remember.

"There's nothing you can do," she admitted, her voice continuing to break, as if contradicting her. "We just ... need a break."

I only gauged her, making sure there wasn't more than what she was saying. With Bella it was always so hard to tell; she kept so much in.

"OK..." I eventually conceded, half nodding before dropping my head to my palm.

There was silence for a moment before she apprehensively broke it. "Edward ... listen to me."

I glanced up at her; her expression was wounded and lost, her eyes only amplifying it further. "Yeah?"

Taking a heavy breath, she began, "When I first came here I had no idea who I was, and then all of a sudden, before I knew what was up or down, I was a part of your life, and you were a part of mine. I depended on you, Edward—I depended on you more than what was fair to you, but you were always there"—she suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing—"despite all the crap we've been through, you were _always_ there for me—"

"Except this time," I interjected, feeling my expression cloud.

She shook her head fractionally, her brow puckering, before she continued, "If it wasn't for you, Edward, when Kel died ... I don't think I would have survived." Her hand released mine before she grabbed a fistful of my t-shirt, pulling me closer to her.

I let her; I had no idea what she was doing, because she always grabbed my shirt like this, and I wasn't sure if it was subconscious or not. Instead, I reached out and carefully tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, breaking into a small, sad smile.

She returned it, her eyes seeming to stare straight down to my soul like they usually did, reflecting every single emotion she was feeling—which immediately rebounded through me.

"We've got to a really unhealthy place, Edward," she eventually admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

I nodded, because she was right; we had, but then were we ever anything other than dysfunctional? All I ever knew was how much I loved her, and as stupid and naïve as I fucking was, I always thought it'd be enough.

Her tears spilled over again, and she hastily wiped them dry before I could react to them, seeming impatient. "It isn't only you, Edward—in fact, it's mainly me. _I'm_ not healthy, and I'm infecting you."

This time I shook my head adamantly, because despite her past and all the pain she'd ever endured, she had always been the one who kept me together. "Baby..."

She only shook hers, stubbornly. "It's true," she insisted, and this time it was her who broke my gaze, her eyebrows drawing closely together—as though she was frustrated—or ashamed.

I wasn't sure; nor was I sure if any of this was about us or the baby.

So I asked her.

"Bella..." I coaxed her gently to look at me, but when she did her expression remained knotted, "do ... do you want to talk about what happened … with the baby?"

She paused for a moment. "No," she eventually managed to utter, shaking her head as her expression became stricken, only moments before her face completely crumbled.

It was a pain so real for her that I couldn't fucking bear it. Pulling her against my chest, I enclosed my arms around her, holding her to me tightly, and almost physically buckling as she started sobbing.

"Y-you were right, Edward. I hated her—exactly like my mother hated me."

"Hey..." I said softly, trying to console her, while feeling her pain echo through me fucking tenfold as I was reminded of what I'd said to her. "I didn't mean that, baby. I just didn't understand how much you were still affected by your past. You're _nothing_ like your mother."

She shook her head, her breath erupting out of her in a shudder against me. "I'm s-so sorry, Edward."

Her voice was so raw and broken that it completely fucked with me, breaking me under the weight of it—under the guilt that was tearing my heart to pieces.

I only held on to her until her tears began to subside, fighting back my own—fighting to stay strong for her now, when I had let her down on such a grand scale I don't think I could ever forgive myself over it.

Eventually she lifted her head, connecting her tormented eyes to mine, and without another thought, I placed my lips against her brow before tentatively moving them down and over hers. She didn't break away; she just seemed to collapse against me, even as I kissed her longer and deeper until, for one fragmented moment, we both surrendered to that forever burning affinity between us.

I was conscious to be careful of her, and it was obvious she was craving only comfort from me, but then abruptly she turned her head, severing our lips, and sounding like it upset her to do so. "Edward ... please don't…"

"What is it, baby?" I asked her, tenderly moving her hair behind her ear before tilting her face to mine.

She just gazed at me for a moment, before taking a large, shaky breath. "In a few weeks I'm going to Australia," she explained, her forehead furrowing in an obvious attempt to hold back her emotion. "I'm going to stay for a while."

My heart paused. "A while?"

She shook her head, as if dismissing my question, before elaborating, "I-I need to go back to the beginning and find out who I am, because if I don't we will get so bad we'll go past the point of no return."

"H-how long?" I asked her, stammering, because like the selfish bastard I was, that's all I could think about—how much I'd miss her; how much I'd suffer while she was gone.

She shook her head again, slower this time. "I'm not sure ... but I have to do this, Edward."

I only stared into her haunted fucking eyes for a moment before expelling every molecule of air from my lungs, and demanding I not overreact. I owed her this—she needed it, and I needed her to know she could trust me again, but most of all she needed to heal physically and emotionally, and she needed a closure from her past that I couldn't give her.

I had to accept it; I had to accept it or I'd eventually lose her.

"OK … but just promise me one thing, baby?" I pleaded with her, my tone a little too fucking desperate, but I couldn't help it; I could already feel her slipping away from me.

She nodded.

"Come back home to me."

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**A/N: thanks for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: To answer a few questions left in anon reviews, a lot was removed from these chapters-even entire chapters themselves-in order for me to make it into a shorter epi. It will be added back. Also, Edward didn't man-whore himself having a great time, because he didn't really love Bella. He man-whores himself because it was his way of numbing his pain. He was very broken.  
I don't usually approve anon reviews, so maybe log in or register to ask questions. I don't want to be reviewing myself to answer them.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 3**

Well you just left me here waiting  
Left a wound that won't heal  
God you're so far away you don't know how I feel

**I'd Die to be With You Tonight - Jimmy Barnes**

* * *

**Edward's POV**

Three weeks later Bella left for Australia. She never came back.

* * *

The first year was the hardest for me.

A week after she left I realized Bella had cut off all communication with me, and what made it worse was that nothing I could say could persuade Alice to tell me how to get in contact with her.

I wrote to her every fucking day, sending the letters to Nummi's house, but every single one of them came back unopened, until Nummi sent me a fucking Great Barrier Reef postcard from Queensland. She'd written a brief note explaining to me that Bella had cut me off because she knew she'd never be able to focus on anything but me if she didn't. She then told me Bella was doing well, she missed me, and she'd be home soon.

Soon…

_Soon_ turned into weeks, which turned into months; which turned into the inevitable…

She wasn't coming back; something I made Alice verify after I nearly murdered the little rat when she point blank refused to tell me Bella's phone number.

Alice had tried to justify it, telling me how destructive Bella and I were—how Bella knew deep down I wasn't good for her. Of course, you can imagine how that made me feel so much better.

Then she drove in the knife.

"Everyone told you if you didn't change you'd eventually push her away, Edward—well that's exactly what you did!"

Yeah, the tough love thing really fucking helped.

I tried not to let it make me self-destruct. I kept myself as busy as possible. I volunteered with the Paramedics from the Harborview Medical Center as much as I could, getting my hours up, and gaining experience, while I spent every other fucking waking hour in class or studying.

I barely slept; I couldn't, because as soon as my eyes closed I'd dream of her. I'd dream of her until I woke in a bucket of sweat, fucking sobbing out her name in the middle of the night. Or I'd hear her voice—I'd hear that accent calling my name with the same agonizing fucking pain.

I literally felt like I was missing a limb, and I walked around in a fucking perpetual daze of heartbreak, with my entire chest feeling constantly restricted, while taking a single breath was a constant battle.

In reality I didn't want to breathe, I just wanted to crawl up and fucking die. Yeah, emotionally I was a basket case, but in every other area of my life I was a raging fucking success.

In twelve months I was a certified EMT, topping the class in the National Registry exam, before I enrolled in Paramedic school. Three years later I graduated, and started work at Tri-Med Ambulance.

My job became my life. I didn't take time off, or have sick days, or holidays. I volunteered for as much hours as they'd give me, and I did everything I could to keep my mind occupied. I went to work, I came home and slept, and in the morning I went to work again.

That was my life—that was how I fought to keep my life.

I didn't date. Aside from having no time, there was just no point to it; Bella owned my heart and there was just no way I could commit myself to anyone else—not that anyone ever came even remotely close.

When I was horny I had sex. I still found it rather easy to get girls to jump in bed with me; though, it usually ended with me getting fucking slapped across the face, or kneed in the balls. It was inevitable; as soon as I came I called out Bella's name.

It wasn't as though I ever remembered the names of the girls I fucked, anyway. They had just become a part of the distraction...

I just got used to the fact that everywhere I went I carried around that ache in my heart for her, and despite Jazz's fucking constant reassurances, it never faded; it never went away; and it never got any easier.

I just got better at dealing with it—or more, I just learned to numb it.

By numb it, I don't mean by becoming an alcoholic or meth addict; I became an emotional cripple. I didn't feel anything, because if I let myself feel I'd feel her all day, every day, fucking constantly until it would eventually kill me.

I attempted to erase her physically from my life by gathering every infinitesimal amount of evidence I ever had of her—photos, presents, Christmas cards; fucking everything—putting them in a box and putting them into storage. If I had a pair of balls I would have thrown them out, but the very idea of that made me fucking neurotic. I didn't want to see her face or have any reminders of her, but I needed that reassurance that she'd never be gone. That all I'd have to do was open a box and there she'd be; the girl who completely fucking destroyed me.

Unfortunately, due to a moment of pathetic, drunken sentiment on my twenty-first birthday, I had a constant reminder of Bella. I had the Southern Cross, the constellations on the Australian flag, tattooed across my heart, but so long as I didn't look at myself in the mirror shirtless, I was OK; though, sometimes it was unavoidable. One girl I brought home to fuck asked me what it was. I told her it was the stars on the American flag.

She'd believed me, too, and that was pretty much the epitome of the girls I'd used in an attempt to erase Bella from my mind.

The tattoo I couldn't help, but still, no matter how hard I tried to avoid any memory, or reference to Bella, she was everywhere. And I mean fucking_ everywhere_. For instance, I constantly found pink pens—I practically tripped over them walking down the sidewalk—and every time I turned on the TV, the radio; or went to the fucking movies, I heard Australian accents. Russell fucking Crow, Hugh Jackman; Chris Hemsworth; Nicole Kidman; Rebel Wilson. It was as if the universe was having the last laugh at me—every minute of my life. Chris Hemsworth completely fucked with my thoughts too, because he reminded me of another Chris from Australia. Kel's brother, who I swore had a thing for Bella no matter how much he insisted that Bella was like a_ sister_ to him. Kel's brother who was pretty much just as tanned with biceps and abs that rivalled Emmett's from all the _hard yakka_ and sheep shearing he did.

When I got Chris Hemsworth-Kel's-brother in my head—which was a lot of the time—I got drunk, because no amount of emotional leprosy could wipe the image of him and Bella together. Drinking only made things a thousand times worse, because when I got drunk I seemed to feel her more intently, and I swear to fucking God I could even smell her and hear her voice. Hear her crying out to me.

Then there was the time we were dispatched to intercept a woman in labor whose husband had called in, not thinking she'd make it to hospital. To date it's the first and only baby I've ever delivered, in the back of the ambulance, but all I could think about was that fucking birth video Mom and Carlisle made me and Bella watch in junior year.

It was generally just as disturbing, made worse by the woman screaming out to me to pull it out of her. I didn't have to; it slipped from her body smoothly and without complications—along with a gallon of fluids that splashed all over me—and immediately started wailing.

It was a girl, and with my hands shaking like a leaf, I prepared to clamp the cord, before handing the scissors to the father to cut it.

"What's her name?" I asked, smiling to myself over the fact that this huge, burly biker of a man, was crying inconsolably.

"Isabella."

For a moment I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, before I almost burst into fucking tears. To be honest, I was pretty overwhelmed by the whole miracle of life thing, so I told myself that's all it was and left it at that.

It made the six o'clock news that night, and I had fucking Tachycardia for a week afterward.

The only positive in any of it was that Alice and I stopped being so close. Not that it was a positive to fall out with her, but with no Alice there were no girlie conversations to contend with, and no interfering little rat trying to set me up.

And no reminders of Bella.

As for my parents, I barely saw them after they packed up and moved to Oregon a few months after Bella first left for Australia. Carlisle was offered some great residency in some bum-fuck town there. He had a fucking hard-on for small towns that I didn't understand.

In the beginning it was a relief to not have to ever go to Forks and ever have any reminders of Bella, but I barely saw them for holidays afterwards, and when I finished college it was less than that. Not that I really wanted to. Every time I saw my mother, she would get that fucking pitiful look in her eyes, cup her palm to my cheek and whisper to me, "She wasn't the right one."

She might as well have just twisted that fucking knife deeper, and every damn Christmas that's what I had to look forward to. Until I stopped going.

Emmett, unfortunately, I saw every other fucking day. He was a firefighter at Seattle Fire Station 30. Our jobs regularly crossed paths, and of course that asshole took pleasure in twisting the knife in my fucking back by teaching his kid, and every guy at his station, to call me "Uncle Bludge".

Yeah, he got Rosalie knocked up half way through college. His boy, EJ, is three now, and the walking, talking clone of him.

There's something really fucked up by a three year old—who was twice the size of a normal kid that age—exclaiming, "Dud woot it's cold in here all of a sudden," every time I fucking visited.

Yeah cold. I was always cold. When Bella left so did all that fucking heatstroke I used to suffer from. The heat Alice used to say God gave to me to stop Bella from freezing when she moved to Forks.

Fucking Alice would always say the stupidest, fucking sentimental shit.

I missed the little ferret more than I wanted to admit most days.

She and Jazz were in the medical Marijuana business—as fucking poetic as that was. Jazz ended up with testicular cancer—probably from the amount of times he used to jack off, I was guessing—and claimed to have cured himself with cannabis extract. The two of them were making a fortune experimenting with fucking plant strains to treat everything from warts to dementia. Fucking hippies that they both were—they couldn't treat me; though, Jazz did try. Due to my job I couldn't have a fucking illicit drug in my system, so he gave me some herbal tea that was supposed to "mellow" me.

It didn't.

OK, it did.

They were engaged, and lived in Olympia cultivating their fucking weed, and that was as close as I ever got to Forks.

Then I met Kate.

OK, I didn't meet her, per say; she just ended up being one of my more regular fuck buddies, until it just sort of naturally progressed. The reason I preferred her out of all the rest—though I'd never tell her—was because she reminded me the least of Bella.

She was tall, blonde, blue eyed, had huge tits and could drink me under the table. Plus, she fell for all my charms—every single one of them, every single time. She was never a challenge; I never had to fight for her. She never looked at me cynically, or scoffed at me—never called me cheesy…

It came easy with her, and that's the way I liked it.

I got comfortable, and it turned exclusive—as fucking laughable as that word was to me, but I made an effort. I liked having her around; I liked having regular sex with a girl whose sexual history I was aware of. I liked having my apartment cleaned, and getting meals cooked for me. I liked having a girl who was so completely opposite to Bella that I never had to worry about getting emotionally fucked up by looking at her.

She knew about Bella—at least, she knew _of _her. She knew I'd had my heart smashed when I was younger and would never be able to give myself fully to anyone, while my heart would always belong to someone else. I guess it was pretty selfish of me, but Kate always insisted she could love me enough for the two of us. That I was "pretty" enough and satisfied her enough to put up with my emotional impairment.

She knew the story behind my tattoo too—half the story, anyway. I told her simply I'd visited Australia and loved it; hence the tattoo. Anything beyond that she didn't probe, and who really has some complicated story behind a tattoo anyway?

The only reminder I ever had of Bella with Kate was the fact that she called me "babe", and often got annoyed when I wouldn't call her anything but "tits". There was no getting around it, though. I never used the terms I used to call Bella again, and I never would.

I did have a semi-endearing term I called her. "Ugly", because she was everything but. She was fucking hot—nothing at all like my quietly beautiful Bella, with those cheek bones, lips, and ridiculously mesmerizing eyes, but Kate was a classic beauty—maybe a fraction on the trashy side. We'd have nice looking kids, at least—though, maybe not as smart as I would have liked.

_Fuck..._

We were living together for a year when I proposed to her.

OK, again it wasn't how it sounds. Kate kept making enough innuendos about making an honest woman out of her that I finally relented and let her pick out an engagement ring. I just figured life was as good as it was ever going to get under the circumstances ,and I shouldn't be an ungrateful prick.

It spurred me into making more of an effort to be faithful; which was basically the only positive I was seeing in it. I knew it was as much as I could ever give—that I'd never find what I'd had with Bella with anyone else. That I was fucking ruined in the relationship department for the rest of my life.

That I'd never ever be able to love anyone else like I loved her...

Also it gave me an excuse to ease up at work and start taking less shifts, because I found working myself into an early grave, while a good distraction, was no way to live.

I had to face reality. She was gone; I'd lost her and she was never coming back. I had to get on with my life, even if it meant living with half a heart, half a soul…

We were engaged for a year when Alice and Jazz's wedding approached.

The day we received the invitation in the mail, Alice called me. We'd only just spent a week over Christmas at "pot farm" and since Alice and I weren't as chummy as we once were, I was only mildly curious.

"Well, well, if it isn't _Mary Jane_," I said dryly over loud speaker as I made myself a sandwich after work.

"Ha-ha," Alice replied sarcastically. "Very funny, Edward. Anyway, is Kate there—are you on loud speaker?" She suddenly huffed, sounding impatient.

"No she's not here and what the hell does it matter?" I demanded, dumping a load of ingredients on the counter.

"Edward..." Alice sighed, and what she was complaining about I had no idea; I was too hungry to care, anyway.

"Spit it out, Alice!"

"I'm going to be in Seattle Tomorrow to pick up my dress and bridesmaid gowns. I'm staying with Em and Rose for a couple of days—anyway, I just wanted to know if you wanted to grab some lunch? There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Jazmina staying to look after _baby bhang_, is he?" I snorted, taking a bite from a roll of salami.

"Don't be a jackass!" Alice retorted, before sighing. "Look, do you want to meet or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. I have lunch for an hour at 1:00," I relented.

We made arrangements on where to meet and said goodbye.

I was never able to fully forgive Alice for refusing to give me Bella's contact information, and our relationship just never recovered. Alice knew above everyone else what Bella meant to me, and I considered her actions as a betrayal. If Bella didn't want me in her life she should have told me herself. Alice should never have gotten involved to the point that she put a wedge between us.

So, in a sense, I'd not only lost Bella, but Alice as well.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. If you're not new to this story, I have fucked the chapters up. The second half of this original chapter is meant to be a few chapters later. Sorry. I am fail.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Note to self, never change an original story to try and make it an epilogue, you will only completely fuck up the format of it. I think I've sorted it out. Anywho, I hope you enjoy. At this point I'm kind of questioning why I decided to write a part 2. The more I write the further this story goes.**

**Ugh, ugh, ugh...**

**ETA: I completely screwed the seasons (August is NOT winter in the Northern Hemisphere) and was forced to repost this chapter instead of editing it, because FFn is clearly drunk. *sighs***

* * *

**Because of you**

**Chapter 4**

**Bella's POV**

I never intended to be in Australia for so long. I'd told Edward before I left it would only be a couple of months—three at the very most, but just when I started contemplating the idea of returning home to Forks, I began to panic. Panic that I wasn't ready, and going back too soon would end up being more detrimental than if I never went; detrimental to myself, my future and my relationship with Edward. We'd sunk to rock bottom, and I couldn't go back with things as they were when I left, so I told myself I'd give it another week, and then another; and another, until before I realised it, I'd been gone for close to six months.

Six months without the rain and mountains of Forks; six months of only hearing Australian accents; and six months without seeing his face.

The decision I'd made to cut all communication off with Edward was initially Alice's idea, but I knew deep down he'd be too much of a distraction. So, I went along with it in order to give me the focus I needed to finally, once and for all, move past my mother. It had initially threatened the exact opposite, because for the first month, I felt his absence so intently that it was hard to divert my attention away from him and the sheer tangible feeling of emptiness that was plaguing me.

I had to remind myself repeatedly in those first few weeks why I was back in Australia and what I had to do, but God I missed him. Every bloody thing about him. I missed that charming, albeit slightly cocky, grin of his, and the way his eyes canvassed mine, so intently and all-consuming. I missed being called "buttercup", and the way he often tried to imitate my accent to make me smile when I was down. And I missed the warmth of his skin—even when the weather was above 40 Celsius in Rocherrie—and that musky, woody smell of him. I even missed the way he would quietly fume, his jaw clenching, and the vein down his forehead throbbing, and the way he would snap out of nowhere, reefing his hands back through his hair, making more of a catastrophe out of it, as he went on one of his rants. I used to dread his short temper, because it would, more often than not, reflect back in me, making me feel out of control.

And I needed that control; whereas Edward was as impulsive as they came, I needed order and symmetry.

Still, I wasn't prepared for how much I'd long for him, and as the months passed it began to leave a hollowness in me. I worried about him constantly; I worried what cutting him off was doing to him, and if I was making a huge mistake and making things worse.

And I worried that it was unreasonable to expect him to wait so long for me.

It threatened my resolve many times—to not go home until I was confident Renee or her legacy would no longer have any influence or authority over my life. That I could step out of her shadows once and for all. So I stayed, because I knew everything and everyone I loved was dependent on it.

When I arrived in Australia I bought a new sim card, officially cutting me off from him. Yet, strangely it didn't wipe his messages like it should have. Every text message I'd ever had with Edward, spanning the last two years, was left stored on my phone—including the last communication we'd had; when he'd told me he hated me. I kept that message. I'm not sure why I did, but during the last several months when I missed him so much my body literally ached for him, I read it and reminded myself that what I was doing was for us as much as for me.

I couldn't keep burying my emotions, pretending I was fine, while refusing to acknowledge anything of my mother and my past; refusing to confront it. It had festered to the point that I had become a time bomb, and I knew eventually something would ignite it; something would happen to make me erupt.

That s_omething_ had been becoming pregnant. It had reached down into the bowels of my past and pulled out my deepest fears, forcing me to face them. In doing so it made me realise how much I'd been affecting Edward—how much I'd pushed him away. He was such an emotional creature, and I had been emotionally draining him, making him walk on egg shells around me; becoming the antagonist in our relationship and putting all the pressure on him.

The more outwardly expressive Edward became—the more frustrated and angry—the more I withdrew away from him. Of course, this only made things a thousand times worse, because when he took on my emotions to compensate for me, it tore him to shreds. But I couldn't stop Edward from taking it all upon himself, because that's who he was. He cared so deeply and selflessly for me at times it made me feel so burdened and guilty to witness what it did to him.

We were so different. In almost every retrospect we were different, we were practically paradoxical, and I sometimes found it astounding that I even liked Edward, let alone loved him with a depth that often alarmed me. But our differences only seemed to cement our connection. He was the piece of the puzzle with the arms, and I was the piece with the holes. We interlocked perfectly, but we were far from being in harmony with each other.

That's why I was in Australia having put oceans and months between us to get to a place where I could finally accept who I was and where I'd come from so I could allow Edward to really see me; to really know me.

After six months, and finally knowing I was emotionally ready to come back home, my resistance snapped and I sent him a text message. It immediately failed, reminding me that he no longer had his old phone. He'd told me before I'd left he'd lost it during the time he'd taken off, thinking I'd had an abortion. I didn't question him over it and it was really best I didn't know more than that.

I sent Alice a message straight after, explaining to her that I was coming home, and asking her to get him to ring me.

**Hey, Bella, he's gone on a trip with Jazz for the week and he didn't take his phone, **was Alice's rather cryptic reply a moment later.

Perhaps it appeared cryptic to me more than it should have because over the last couple of months Alice had become … elusive in regards to Edward. In the beginning whenever I'd asked about him, she'd groan and tell me how much he was driving her and everyone around him nuts, but then as the months wore on she started to become vague. I always made her promise to tell him that everything was OK with us, and what I was doing was about me and not him, but from all accounts he hadn't been taking it very well. Initially, I just figured Alice didn't want me to stress over him, and that was the reason why she'd been so unspecific, but it was beginning to make me feel uneasy.

And now he'd supposedly gone on a trip and forgot his phone? Did she really expect me to believe that?

I told myself not to overreact, reminding myself how angry Alice had been before I'd left. In fact, I had never seen Alice so angry at Edward before. She'd told me a couple of days before I left that if Edward didn't get a hold of himself while I was in Australia she was going to cut him out of her life.

She'd been 100% serious, too, and I wanted to tell her that I'd been a huge factor in his behaviour, and to please not do anything too drastic until after I was back. But I didn't; I'm not sure why. Maybe because at the time, just recovering from the ectopic miscarriage, and then spending almost two weeks thinking Edward was, at the very worst, dead, I was furious, defeated, and rapidly losing faith in the two of us.

But now, after close to six months in Australia I finally felt like life was back on track—or perhaps _on track_ for the first time in my life.

For the first several months I stayed with Nummi's family and forced myself to face the very worst of my past, and find acceptance with it—even peace. Carol made me see a therapist twice a week, a couple of towns over, but talking about my past was hard for me. It was never something I felt comfortable doing. I avoided it altogether, actually, because with everything I was I feared reliving it, and rehashing memories I'd long since buried. I always thought it would give Renee more power over me, and in the beginning it was torture, but after it was purged from me I realised how healing it was and how freeing it made me feel.

I visited my mother's grave, and I told her I forgave her. I forgave her because I had to move past her, and I knew I never could while I continued to hang on to so much anger and resentment for her. I cried at that grave site; that pathetic bare and unloved site, with the small, plain headstone that was inscribed with my mother's name, and the dates of her birth and death. I cried not over my mother's death but for the unloved child I once was, and for all the pain and heartache that had become inherent in who I was; something which had hung heavily over me, threatening to overshadow any happiness I found, and any sense of self-worth I felt.

I grieved and told her it was over, that I'd never again allow the memory of her to hold so much influence over me, and that I'd stop dwelling on her inability to love me. I then made a silent vow to myself, that when I had a baby I would be everything to that child that my mother wasn't.

Afterward, with Nummi and Rach, I went to Renee's house.

Obviously, after I'd left, Renee had not looked after it; it had fallen into even more disrepair. It was overrun with weeds, and inside it was so filthy the smell was putrid. I didn't even want to question what was causing it, so covering my nose with my palm, I walked straight into my bedroom. What I was faced with pulled me up short, while my heart clenched, then sank.

It was empty.

There wasn't a single object in the room apart from the ratty looking threadbare curtains and dust. Lots of dust. It was as if Renee had completely deleted me from her life, and it stung.

Despite what I'd said, and felt, and promised myself at her grave site, it still impacted me like a blow straight through my chest.

I just stood in that dim, fucking dreary room and let out what was meant to be a humourless laugh.

This is what it came down to, what I'd meant to her.

It immediately subdued me, and in this house it was such a familiar emotion that for one horrible moment in time I felt like I'd never left. A sense of despair and helplessness began to penetrate me, and as I struggled to contain it, becoming frustrated and determined not to give her any more tears, I lowered my head and watched them hit the dusty, grimy floorboards, one after another.

A hand came to rest on my shoulder, gently, forcing my attention back.

"Come on, Bells," Rach said, quietly, but with an unmistakable trace of bitterness in her tone. "Let's leave."

I turned around, and walked straight through the house and out into the yard, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my thoughts vacant. I could feel myself becoming angrier and angrier until I didn't know if it was directed at her or myself.

"You got a lighter, Rach? Nummi?" I asked without emotion, my eyes not deviating from the hovel of a house in front of me with the peeling paint, rusted drain pipes and splintered wood.

I hated it. I hated this house. I hated everything it represented, and I hated that it held captive every terrible memory and echo of my childhood within its walls.

Well, that was going to change!

"Yeah," Nummi said, hastily, shoving a box of matches into my hand, that I'd had clenched tightly into a fist.

I started gathering the many unopened newspapers, and junk mail catalogues that was littered around the front yard and stuffed into the rusted old letter box. Nummi and Rach, quickly understanding, did the same, until all three of us were armed with mountains of paper.

Without a word spoken I began to separate sheet after sheet of the paper, scrunching it into balls, before tossing it onto the veranda of the house, stuffing them into the holes in the boards, and shoving them through the windows. Rach and Nummi took their paper inside, but I refused to go back in, and after they returned to stand stoically beside me, I struck a match and threw it at the piles I'd dumped near the front door.

They caught fire immediately, and in minutes the entire house was blazing. I just stood impassively watching it burn, the heat of it warming my face, my arms, my legs—I liked the feel of it, and the sense of calm and acceptance that came over me. As the flames slowly but surely consumed the house and every horrible reminder of the life I'd once lived, I felt as if it was doing the same with me.

In Australia fire symbolises rebirth, and it was as symbolic to me as I'm sure my empty bedroom had once been for Renee.

The windows blew out, and the timber cracked and groaned as the house slowly caved in on itself; Rach and Nummi dragged me back, but we didn't leave. We all stood and watched til the end, until it was little more than a pile of charred, smouldering rubble, and when I finally walked away, I felt for the first time in my life completely unburdened—emancipated from this house, my past, and lastly my mother.

The next day I arranged to have what was left of it bulldozed to the ground.

The property bordered Kel's family's land, and they were happy to buy it from me. I accepted their offer, glad to be rid of it, to put it behind me so I could at last move forward.

I had moved forward; I'd achieved what I'd come to do. I'd faced my demons, and made my peace with Renee, and after, as a kind of transition, Nummi, and Rach and I went to the Whitsunday Islands. But I couldn't relax; I was beginning to feel plagued by a sense of alarm. I wasn't sure what, just that it wouldn't go away no matter how many times I told myself I was overreacting.

**OK, can you get him to call me when he gets back? **I texted in response to Alice.

There was no reply.

"Dammit!" I burst, feeling my heart sink and alerting Nummi, who was lying on a deck chair at the resort pool, beside me.

She half sat up, and gazed at me quizzically. "What's up, Bells?"

I shook my head, my eyes remaining on my phone, as my patience that Alice would eventually reply began to wear thin. "I … I dunno—I have this terrible feeling," I mumbled, preoccupied.

"About … Edward?" Nummi asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Yeah," I replied, switching off my phone and throwing it in my beach bag with a huff, before turning to face Nummi. "At first Alice tells me he drove her near mad trying to get in touch with me, and now—she's acting like she's hiding something from me."

"What'd she say?" Nummi asked, and I suspected she was feigning curiosity.

"That Edward and Jazz have gone away and that Edward forgot his phone," I replayed, shaking my head to myself that Alice expected me to believe such a thing.

"Well … do you have Jazz's number?" Rach said, sitting in the deck chair on the other side of me, having just returned with a gigantic looking cocktail.

"I do, I think," I answered, my tone immediately brightening, before I dove back into my bag for my phone to scan my contacts.

It was there, and grinning triumphantly to myself I hit 'call'.

Jazz answered a moment later, obviously recognising my number, because he addressed me cheerfully by name.

"Hey, Jazz, I was wondering if I could speak to Edward—Alice said he forgot his phone," I quickly explained, and was met by an awkward pause.

"Um … I'm not sure what you mean, Bella," Jazz eventually replied sounding apologetic. "As far as I know Edward's still in Cali."

"Cali … fornia?" I prompted him, as my heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, Carlisle got him a summer job with one of the ambulances down there," he elaborated.

Alice _lied_ to me.

I was fuming, but quickly becoming inundated by doubt and confusion. "Okay, I guess Alice and I got our wires crossed," I said, distracted, as my mind raced ahead.

Why would Alice lie to me—why would Alice lie to me about Edward's whereabouts?

The break was officially ruined from that moment on; I continued to go through the motions, for pretences only, but I was fooling no one. When I wasn't faking holiday cheer and downing cocktails, I spent every spare minute trying to find Edward's contact details—and the irony definitely wasn't lost on me.

Alice didn't return any of my messages, even when I called her out on the bullshit, and when I texted Jazz again, to ask him for Edward's new number, his number was suddenly "unknown". Emmett seemingly ignored my messages, Jake had no idea, and Rose gave me the same answer that Jazz had: Edward was in California working for the summer, and she didn't have his number.

Being forced to admitting defeat, I gave up; deciding to at least try and enjoy what little time I had with Rach and Nummi. But I was miserable; I couldn't ditch the uneasiness over Edward, and the anxiety it caused me eventually made me feel physically ill—but that could have been the many cocktails Rach kept forcing down my throat.

I flew out from Queensland a few days later, bound for LAX, torn between the heartache over leaving the guys again after six long, emotionally draining months, and the growing dread about what I was returning home to—or what I _wasn't_.

I spent the entire flight fighting off pessimism while regretting the decision to cut Edward off—if only because the emotional exhaustion of twenty something hours in the air made me feel his absence even more acutely. Because, let's face it, my life had basically centred on my mother and Edward, and now that I'd successfully emancipated the poison of my mother from my veins…

I still hated to fly, but made it relatively unscathed at Port Angeles at just past midnight, on a ridiculously freezing autumn night in the middle of August. I was immediately greeted by a very familiar, over-zealous Jake, and staid, but affectionate Uncle Billy, reminding me through the fog of jet lagged weariness that I was at last home.

For the first several days after being back in Forks I was kept fairly distracted from the gnawing of uneasiness that had been plaguing me. Uncle Billy had organised an accountant for me to handle my financial situation—which was code for taxes that I was faced with after bringing so much money into the States. I didn't have a single idea what I planned on doing with it—it still felt tainted to me and still too connected to Renee. Though, I was given the usual responsible financial advice of buying a house, making smart investments, and using it to pay for my college education.

College … college and the apartment my father had rented for me—that I'd been sharing with Edward. It felt like another lifetime ago that I was living that life, and now I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go back. Going back wasn't even an alternative anymore, but what I did know was that I couldn't make any decisions—in fact, I couldn't even think straight—until I reconnected with Edward again—and Alice.

Alice, who was still not replying to my messages.

"Damn it, Alice—where are you!" I exclaimed to myself after the fifth message I'd sent her since arriving in Forks looked to be going unanswered like the ones previously.

"Maybe she's visiting her folks in their new house?" Jake suggested casually as he walked passed my opened bedroom door.

I looked up, feeling my brow ridge blankly. "Huh?"

"They moved—apparently the Doc got offered some new position down south."

My heart seized; though, I had no idea how relevant it was—if at all. "They-they did?"

'Yeah … Oregon?" His brows raised questioningly.

"You're asking _me_?" I asked, while the feeling of being so in the dark made my voice pitch sharply.

"Well, Jeez Bells, is your boyfriend their son, or isn't he?" He half rolled his eyes.

Lowering my head, I pressed the tips of my fingers into my furrowed brow, admitting quietly, "I haven't spoken to Edward since before I left."

There was silence, and when I glanced back up at him, he seemed to be appraising it.

"You broke up with him?" he asked, when his eyes met mine.

I took a heavy breath, feeling my shoulders slump in defeat as I again broke eye contact with him. "No, yeah—I dunno…"

"Bells?" he prompted me, continuing only after I reluctantly met his gaze. "He's no good for you." He was serious, but then he always was when it came to Edward.

My heart clenched, suddenly feeling heavy and burdened. "Jake..." I complained softly, without an ounce of conviction in my tone.

Just as suddenly Jake's demeanour changed, before he took a breath, releasing it into an exaggerated groan. "I shouldn't have said that, because you'll get back together—'cause that's what you do—and then there'll be weirdness between us."

And despite myself I broke into a semi amused smirk. "Jake, it's not as if your feelings for Edward is a newsflash for me, or anything."

He broke into a grin—that quickly grew with affection—before he reached out and squeezed my shoulder; conveying his familiar tenderness without a word spoken.

I nodded, my smile hedging on the pitiful more than anything.

He left, leaving me in a growing state of melancholy before I snapped myself out of it in a fit of determination. I send Alice a second text:

**IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER MY MESSAGE IN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES OUR FRIENDSHIP IS OVER!**

It only took her two.

**I'll be in Port tomorrow. Wanna meet?**

"You're in Australia for six months and I swear to God you've come back paler than before you left!" Alice greeted me, all in her usual manic enthusiasm—as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between us—before she embraced me in a single-armed hug.

Apart of me wanted to embrace her back—it'd been six months since I'd seen her after all, and I missed her—but I instinctively remained guarded. Without replying I only gazed at her with a lingering distrust and disappointment.

It was enough to shatter what I quickly realized was a charade. Her expression immediately fell, her eyes suddenly reflecting what appeared to be …guilt!

"Come on," she grabbed my arm, tugging me away from the café, where I assumed we'd be entering, considering she'd arranged to meet me there, "let's go talk in the park."

"The park?" I echoed, suddenly suspicious as I shrugged myself from her grip. "But it's pouring down!"

Bloody hell, I sounded whiny.

"Oh, just come on," she said, her voice softening, but not sounding very convincing as she placed her hand against my back and ushered me forward.

After returning to my car to retrieve my umbrella, I joined her where she waited under a gazebo by the lake. The park was deserted aside from us—obviously we were the only ones crazy enough to take on the wall of water—and while I convinced myself it was just a result of the foggy, miserable weather, I couldn't deny the growing sense of pessimism.

Sitting myself on the small round table, with my feet on the bench below, I huddled myself up tightly before turning reluctantly to Alice. "Just tell me..." My voice was barely a decibel above a whisper, but they were not the words I wanted to say. I wanted to ask her where Edward was—if we were OK.

Her expression was creased, pained, but for a moment she only gazed at me—for what I had no idea, but it only served to make me more on edge.

"_Alice!_" I burst, becoming increasingly frustrated, but more so with panic.

"Bella … I have no idea how to tell you this…" her voice was soft, almost pleading, but I barely heard it over the echo of my accelerating heart that seemed to be projected all around me.

"Tell … me w-what?" I asked, struggling to find my voice.

"Edward … he's moved to California. He's met someone and he's… not coming back." Her tone broke midsentence before she severed her eyes from mine, while I only continued to stare at her, in disbelief, but in complete understanding, as my heart was suddenly seized in a vice.

For a moment I couldn't respond; for a moment I felt like she was speaking a foreign language. "What?" I heard my voice finally speak, strained and gasping, before I shook my head in refusal, my mind screaming at me:

_No! No, Edward wouldn't—he wouldn't. He wouldn't do that to me!_

"I'm so sorry," she replied as she stared down at me with a brutal truth that made her own expression contort with grief. Though, it was unable to erode the guilt completely from her expression.

How I could even ascertain that, I had no idea. I felt like I was outside of my subconsciousness while at the same time my senses were heightened. Everything I saw—everything I felt and heard seemed suddenly overwhelming.

"That's why we didn't go inside the café—so I wouldn't make a scene," I uttered, my voice this time completely devoid of emotion in what seemed a completely rational response in light of the carnage I could feel creeping up on my soul.

Alice spoke; at least, her lips moved but no sound came out of her mouth. All I could hear—all I was aware of was my breath, as it whooshed in and out of my lungs, and my heart; my heart that was racing on a sudden collision course with a pain I had never before experienced.

Pain worse than all my years with Renee, worse than the absence of my father as I grew up … and worse than losing my best friend.

I thought I knew this pain—I should have been acquainted with it, after all—but not this time. No, this pain was completely alien to me.

Just as rapidly as sound came back to me, so came the anger. Red hot, seething anger. I lunged off the table of the gazebo, and rounded on Alice, startling her in the process.

"I KNEW IT!" I yelled, the anger compounding with the pain and disbelief beginning to converge on me, making my voice sound foreign to my own ears. "I KNEW ALL ALONG HE WOULD DO THIS—THAT HE WAS NO BETTER!" I was all but hollering by this point, the emotion quickly turning my voice hoarse, as Alice subtly cringed away from me.

But I _didn't_ know it, and even as I cemented it, my subconscious screamed at me that this was very wrong, before a pair of intense green eyes flashed through my mind, wide and pleading, in complete harmony with that insistent inner voice.

An inner voice that suddenly took on a deeper, rustic tone.

_No, I wouldn't do this to you, Bella. You know I wouldn't!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, I'm having mercy and updating. This was a hard one to write-to get Bella's emotions and frame of mind right. I'm not sure, but anywho, it is what it is, and I hope you enjoy.  
**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 5**

I can almost see it.  
That dream I'm dreaming, but  
There's a voice inside my head saying  
You'll never reach it  
Every step I'm taking  
Every move I make  
Feels lost with no direction,  
My faith is shakin'  
But I, I gotta keep tryin'  
Gotta keep my head held high

**Miley Cyrus – The Climb**

* * *

**Bella's POV**

How I made it back to Forks I will never know. I must have put myself on auto pilot as a defence mechanism, because physically I was quite literally crumbling.

Absolute heart-wrenching anguish had engulfed me so quickly; a tangible energy that felt like it was shredding me. My senses failed me; it was as if they had turned against me. I was completely imploding despite every futile effort to keep myself in control, and in every aspect I sobbed, only I didn't shed a single tear.

Through the growing haze of my mind, projected echoes of his smile, his laughter, his gravelly voice, that became a noose around my heart. My body felt like it was in shock, and it brought back a horrible reminder of the night Kel died. That night, amidst the shroud of grief and heartbreak, I'd lost my sense of reality, and in doing so had convinced myself it was Edward I'd lost; it was Edward who'd died.

Perhaps it had been a premonition. Maybe I always knew…

**...**

By the time I made it home, anger had again kicked into gear, taking the reins. I was furious—I was madder than hell—and I found I could almost function as I reluctantly held onto it. As I convinced myself it was the best thing to happen to me.

Jake was right, The General was right; _Mrs Cullen _was right. Edward was no good for me.

Still, maintaining this façade, forcibly keeping myself angry, was by no means easy, but I knew what was waiting in the shadows for me, if I ever let it go. I'd done grief, I'd done loss and heart break, and I swore I would not go through that again—especially not for a cheat and a coward like Edward!

Only, to stay mad at Edward I had to constantly think about him. I had to keep reminding myself of the good times with him, and the promises he made me in order to attach a sense of betrayal to it. After only a month it had become too much of a torment, and I knew I had to come up with a different strategy because I was soon faced with another appendix of the grief process—one that scared me more than the thought of heart break: denial.

Denial was dangerous. If I let it in it would lead to hope, and if hope ever got its hooks into me I would never be able to move past him. But I found as the months wore on, denial had shown it was the most stubborn. I always felt it in my periphery, and the desire I had to succumb to it at times became irresistible. Whenever I became distracted enough to let my guard down it whispered in my ear, it found its way into my dreams, contradicting the nightmares that had become my reality. It chipped away at my anger and kept the anguish at bay with a longing I had kept buried deep in my heart.

A longing that would not go away no matter how stubborn I was to keep it locked away; the longing to accept a truth my subconscious would not abandon; the truth that I knew Edward, and he would never _ever _do this to me. That there was something very wrong with this whole situation.

That's why I feared denial more than heartbreak, because what it promised me was a lie. A lie I couldn't allow myself to believe.

Inevitably it all came to nothing, because no matter how angry I was, it was always eclipsed by a crushing heartache that shadowed me day and night, while at the same time I allowed a glimmer of hope to placate it; the hope that Edward would come back.

But he never did.

Naturally, I also retreated behind my old defences. I made every effort to erase Edward from my life. I made sure there was never any mention of him, never any reminders, and I never spoke his name—ever. I kept myself busy—it became my new motto: stay as busy as possible and keep your thoughts diverted.

For the first month I literally spring cleaned the entire house. Actually that first night I started on the kitchen. I cleaned out every drawer and cupboard, polished every piece of silverware, every pot and sauce pan, and every glass. I scrubbed the stove, the walls and the floors while Jake and Uncle Billy looked on with quiet concern. I didn't stop for two days until physical exhaustion forced me to. It was then I was faced with another complication; sleep. When I slept I dreamed, and when I dreamed it was of him. I dreamed of the past, a now impossible future, and I relived that moment in the gazebo by the lake with Alice over and over. At times it was so real and vivid I swore I could still feel him and smell him, long after the hammering of my heart and heaving of my lungs woke me.

And still I didn't cry. I couldn't. I wasn't sure why. Maybe I feared the tears; that if I surrendered to them they'd completely obliterate me, reminding me of the enormity of what I'd lost.

As much as I wanted to crawl up in a ball and forget all this was happening, I had no choice but to get on with life. I took it a day at a time, and with a carefully crafted routine, allotting as little time as possible for sleep, I was able to somehow function.

By the time autumn came around, and still unsure of any plans I had for the future, Uncle Billy rehired me as a receptionist at the precinct. I worked as long as he physically allowed me to, and After 10 hours at the station, I drove to the supermarket to buy the ingredients I'd need for dinner—cooking became my new obsession, and discovering new recipes to make every night kept me reasonably occupied. After cooking dinner, serving and sitting down to eat, I made up lunches for Jake and Uncle Billy with the leftovers, cleaned the kitchen, took a shower and then spent the remainder of the night chatting to Nummi and Rach on Facebook. Then, unable to avoid it, I slept, and I dreamed, I relived; I grieved; and I cried. I cried only in my dreams; when I was awake the tears were replaced by the void of numbness.

This became my life. I neither looked forward nor back, and as long as I stuck with my routine I got through the days relatively unscathed. I continued to struggle with my emotions, trying to find a medium between the three that would allow me to breathe, and in a sense the constant battle became a distraction within itself, but so far it was working.

My first real hurdle came when I had to return to my college apartment in Seattle to clean it out.

Jake and Leah came with me, and the moment I stepped through the front door I was grateful they had. He was everywhere—everywhere I turned, everywhere I looked, he was there. His clothes lay haphazardly over pieces of furniture, a medical book remained opened on the small dining table, the scent of him still hung in the air—his aftershave, mixed with that woodiness of him—cementing this nightmare further into reality. What he meant to me, and what I'd lost.

For a moment I just stood there, the noose around my heart tightening, my breath faltering, feeling like I was falling.

The cardboard box I held under my arm dropped to the floor, before it was quickly swooped up by Leah.

"Where do you want us to start, Bells?" she asked, in an obvious attempt to distract me.

My attention snapped back to her, and clearing my throat softly, I mumbled in reply, "The living room."

Naturally I didn't miss the pointed glance her and Jake shared, but unable to dwell on it, I took the box Leah held out to me and disappeared into the bedroom.

I didn't realise how hard it would be. To witness the life we once shared, frozen in time and oblivious to what was about to happen. The past that would haunt me forever. It was so brutal and cruel, and it was beginning to make me question everything I thought I knew about myself. Despite everything I'd gained during the past 6 months in Australia, would I ever be able to open myself up enough to trust again? Would my mother always be inherent in me?

Was it all for nothing?

For a moment the enormity of everything began to flood me. It made me almost physically sway, but with a stubborn, determined huff, I pushed it back and, dropping the box on the bed, I got to work sorting through the contents of the room; keeping my focus solely on the present.

The instant I started I found them. They were all over the place; stuffed into every drawer, on every surface, under the bed, and in the pockets of my clothes. Initially I ignored them, or tried to anyway, as I screwed them in a ball and tossed them in the waste paper basket, but with each one I threw away, the pulling on my heart increased.

In truth, no matter how strong I thought I was being, how in control, or angry, with everything I was I just wanted one more day—I would have even settled for just five minutes more.

Something to hold onto.

_Just one. It won't hurt to read just one_, hope urged me, as I sat on the bed with a defeated sigh, clutching the latest piece of paper in my hand.

And knowing it would be completely detrimental in every sense of the word, and with my heart suddenly stalling, as if bracing itself, I clumsily opened the folded piece of paper, and read one of the notes Edward had left around the apartment for me:

**You're my honeybunch, sugar plum  
Pumpy-umpy-umpkin  
You're my sweetie pie  
You're my cuppycake, gumdrop  
Snoogums, boogums, you're  
The apple of my eye.**

Without realising it I smiled to myself. I used to tease him over these notes, telling him how sappy he was, when in reality I loved every one of them, and I loved him even more for being so ridiculously sweet.

But just as quickly my smile faded, leaving me feeling like I was suddenly drowning. For that brief moment I'd allowed the heart break to seep through my defences, and it quite literally knocked the air from my lungs. In the face of it, all I could do was close my eyes, a pitiful attempt to dull the ache that was raging though me, as I clutched the paper to my heart. I couldn't catch my breath, because I knew I had lost these moments forever—they were nothing more than shadows now, and I had no idea how I could live without them—or how I could even _breathe_ without him.

"Bells…?"

I jumped, startled and flustered before I looked up and saw Jake gazing down at me with a troubled expression knotted into his brow. "You OK?" he asked, gently.

"Yeah," I mumbled, while my head, as if acting of its own accord, shook back and forth, no.

No, I wasn't OK; I was far from it.

His smile turned sad and sympathetic, and he moved to enter the room, but this time I shook my head more forcefully.

"I can do this," I insisted as my voice softly broke, while the prickle of tears burned behind my eyes. "I just … I just didn't realise how much it would hurt."

Still the tears would not fall.

Sitting beside me on the bed, Jake slung his arm heavily around my shoulders, nudging me briefly to him. "You know you've always got me, don't you, Bells?"

I smiled, no matter how fractured it must have appeared, because I knew that's what he wanted to see, before taking a deep, wavering breath and letting my shoulders slump with it. "I'll be OK."

But I didn't believe I ever would be again.

**...**

I kept that one note from the apartment, as well as one of Edward's t-shirts. It was soaked with his smell, bringing back so many memories that it was too unbearable to throw out. Everything else I placed in a box, before stopping off at Alice's apartment to drop it off.

Jake wanted me to throw it out, and I really should have, but when I'd let the heart break in, denial had accompanied it. I allowed myself to cling to a glimmer of hope, no matter how improbable, as I reminded myself that while Alice was still my friend I would always have a link to Edward.

This wasn't who I was, and I should have been thoroughly ashamed of myself, but I wasn't.

The only problem was when Alice opened her door and saw me standing there, her expression immediately turned … aghast—panicked.

It threw me, and for a moment I only stood before her suddenly doubting myself.

"Bella!" she finally exclaimed, breathlessly. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I … I cleaned out my apartment," I answered, quickly pulling myself together, as I eyed her apprehensively. "This is all Edward's stuff." I held up the box in emphasis.

Her eyes fell to it, still shining with alarm, before they quickly connected with mine again. "Oh … OK. I don't know when I'll see him—just throw it out," she suggested quickly.

She was brushing me off!

For a moment, I only stared at her, confused and offended.

"I mean, I don't know where I'll keep it. Sorry…" she offered meekly, as if she felt obliged to elaborate, and suddenly I was pissed off.

"Give it to him, or not—I don't care," I snapped, shoving the box abruptly into her arms before turning to leave. It was clear my very presence was making her uncomfortable, and I wasn't going hang around for her to say as much.

This is where denial got me!

"Bella—wait!" I heard her call after me, as I stumbled down the stairs two at a time, in my haste to get away from her, but I ignored her.

At least I did until I reached the entrance of the apartment block, where I looked up and faced her as she gazed down at me from the landing—this time looking guilt ridden. "Fuck you, Alice!" I spat, before shoving my way through the entrance doors back to Jake's car.

It was a good thing Jake had driven, because I was so angry, I literally shook the entire way home to Forks, but when we arrived, I was gutted.

It was becoming clear that with Edward went Alice. Alice, who had been the closest friend I'd had since Kel. Alice who I would never have believed could treat me so callously.

But then I had thought the same thing about her brother…

I didn't cry that night; I threw up.

**...**

The months passed, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's, and then Valentine's Day, and gradually, bit by bit the ache began to ebb. It allowed me a freedom to almost start feeling again without the accompanied crushing pain that had been a part of it. Of course I still took every precaution not to think of Edward or our past, because although the grief was fading from my heart, the noose remained firmly entwined around it.

My friendship with Alice had basically become non-existent. I just assumed she figured it would be too awkward to have me, her brother's ex-girlfriend, around her; especially, in the event he was ever around as well, and decided I was expendable. It was hard to understand, but I wasn't going to exert energy on someone who really wasn't the person I thought she was. It hurt almost as much as Edward, but in a way they both cancelled each other out. Without Edward, I wouldn't see Alice, and without Alice there'd be no Edward…

I kept my routine as the foundation of my coping mechanism, but slowly, I felt myself able to emancipate myself from the state of grief and start to live again. It wasn't something that came naturally, like everyone had insisted it would. It didn't just fade away from my heart with each passing week. No, it was something I had to teach myself to keep under control. Every day of my life I fought this constant battle to keep my heart and soul, and everything that accompanied it, detached from Edward.

I wasn't always easy, and some days were harder than others, but after the first year, I had become pretty adept at it.

Of course, then there were days I completely fell of the wagon. The first person I was intimidate with after Edward was one such time, and when I fell, I fell hard.

I had become good friends with Angela Webber. Her fiancé, Ben, was working with Uncle Billy as a patrolman at the station and we connected again at the annual police picnic the year after I started working there. We clicked straight away. I had always liked Angela, and we were always friends through High School, but let's face it, Alice and Edward had pretty much monopolised my time, leaving little for anyone else.

Angela understood what I was going through with my break up with Edward, and for almost a year she allowed me to go through it on my own time and terms without interfering. She was always there for me if I needed her—she always made that known—but I didn't talk about Edward with her, or anyone. It wasn't in my nature to grieve that way. I had put him out of my mind in order to go on with my life and that was it.

I just didn't realise my behaviour had been attracting so much concern for me.

**...**

A call came through the switch board, and quickly checking the time, I answered it as a knowing smile grew across my face. "Hey, Ang," I said warmly, knowing immediately who it was, because she rang me every morning at 11:30 sharp, to make plans for lunch.

"Hey, Bells—so I was thinking Subway in the park," Angela suggested, to which I broke into laughter.

During my first Christmas after returning to Forks I'd made up my mind to leave; to start over somewhere completely new. I was convinced it was the only way I could really put Edward behind me, because Forks just had too many reminders. Naturally, Uncle Billy thought it was a terrible idea, telling me he couldn't look my father in the eye if he let me leave so young and fragile.

I hated that word: fragile. It made me feel meek and pathetic, as if I needed to be wrapped in cotton wool; as if I was the only person in the world who couldn't deal with being dumped. I had got past my mother; I could get past Edward!

Angela took a different approach. She made a deal with me that if she could make Forks appear as interesting and as appealing as possible then I had to agree to stay; at least for another year. I'd agreed, only because I didn't think it was possible; Forks had lost its appeal for me. But true to her word, and every day for lunch, Angela had taken me somewhere different. I was actually impressed by the lengths she went to.

We'd visited all the usual restaurants in the first week, but after, Angela enlisted the locals, who'd all acted as hosts out of their homes or gardens to serve us lunch, baking and cooking up a hurricane to outdo the neighbours. We then had picnics all over the State Park, Rainforest; the Quileute and Makah Reservations, by rivers, creeks and waterfalls. Most of the time I was horrendously late back for work, not that Uncle Billy minded, or anything; he was on Angela's side.

After only a few months, she'd won me over. I realised I'd been looking at Forks through tinted glasses, cracked by heartbreak, and I was contemplating leaving my family and friends because of it. Angela had reminded me again why I loved it.

Now it had become a tradition with us, to come up with variations of different meals and locations.

"Ok, sure," I replied, my smile broadening. "Pick you up in thirty." It was my turn to drive, after all.

**...**

"So, Bells…" Angela breeched, after a few minutes of eating our sandwiches as we watched pre-schoolers play on the playground equipment at Tillucum Park, "I want to talk about something, but I don't want you to get upset, OK?"

I turned to her; she was avoiding my gaze as she picked onions out of her foot long. "OK…" I replied, with uncertainty.

Taking a breath she turned her eyes on mine, her expression serious, but almost anxious. "I think ... it's time you put yourself out there again."

I knew what she was talking about—I'm not an idiot—but I still reacted blankly, blinking a few times as deep within me the noose squeezed. "Out there…?"

"B..." her voice softened, "it's been 18 months."

"I know," I replied, averting my eyes from hers back to the pre-schoolers, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

"I just—I just don't think you've had closure." Her voice suddenly became determined, insistent, but I wanted to laugh—bitterly this time.

I would never have closure.

"Ang…" I complained, in a meek attempt to end the conversation without having to delve into it further.

"Bella—you never speak about him. Ever." Her tone suddenly switched to confusion. "I've seen you practically every day for just over a year and I have not heard you say his name once. In fact, I don't even know why you broke up. How can you get over him if you refuse to even acknowledge he existed?"

"Why we broke up..." I echoed, more or less to myself, but I wanted to ask if we could please not talk about this—that I _couldn't_ talk about it. In fact, I wanted to cower away from the entire conversation and go completely foetal, but knowing it would only prove her point, I didn't.

"Why did you?" Angela coaxed me, tentatively, and when I glanced up at her she seemed to cringe subtly away from me.

I contemplated it for a moment. I could talk about Edward—I could, but I needed to do it from the perspective of anger. The same anger which had carried me through the first 6 months of our break up. I didn't want to analyse, or discuss. I just wanted to state the facts, have my anger reinforced, while being completely safeguarded from denial.

Denial, which hadn't faded with the passage of time, but had remained stubbornly insistent.

Shaking these thoughts from my mind, I took a weary breath, and careful to keep my emotions detached, I began, "I got pregnant, and E-Edward freaked out..." The words all but died on my lips; I felt like I was literally beginning to course with energy, and it was the first time I had spoken his name in over a year.

"He freaked out because you got pregnant?" Angela prompted me gently.

I looked up and met her warm, sympathetic gaze and almost scoffed ironically. "No,_ I_ freaked out because I was pregnant, Edward freaked out because he thought I'd had an abortion."

Her brow knotted. "Why did he think that?" She sounded genuinely confused.

My chest was beginning to feel restricted. I hadn't thought about the night I lost the baby in a long time, despite the fact that I'd had that same reoccurring dream of the little girl many times since. "Because I told him I wanted one," I admitted, barely a whisper, looking down at my hands as my emotions peaked with shame. "And after I'd lost the baby, Jake ... I'm not exactly sure what happened, but Edward immediately jumped to the conclusion that I'd gone through with the abortion."

"Oh, jeez..." Angela said, her expression pained, but with complete understanding. "He always did tend to jump to the wrong conclusions, didn't he?"

I kind of scoffed dryly, because let's face it, that was the understatement of the century. "Anyway," I mumbled, meeting her gaze again before continuing, "I woke up in the hospital and Mrs Cullen was over me asking me when the last time I'd seen him was. He'd gone missing, and for two and a half weeks no one knew where he was. I thought he'd gone and done something stupid and got himself killed, and for two weeks I lived with that. It ... almost killed _me_."

Her expression deepened with empathy; her eyes burned with it, and it gave me a sense of comfort despite the fact that I was growing more upset than I was supposed to be angry. "After he was back, I was so angry at him. I hated that he'd done that to me. I couldn't look at him for weeks, and when I left for Australia I completely cut him off. I needed to concentrate on moving past my mother at that point, and Alice … Alice convinced me to cut off all communication with him the entire time I was there."

Angela's brow quirked, and she straightened as if she was going to say something, but instead she only seemed to ponder my words.

"I didn't intend to hurt him, or punish him—anything like that. I just needed ... no distractions," I explained, to which Angela nodded in understanding. "Alice promised me she was passing on my messages to him, that it wasn't about him but me, but after a few months she started acting weird. She avoided speaking about him and when I asked she became vague. Then she just avoided me altogether, and when I got back she told me Edward had moved to California and he'd met someone else." I stopped, inhaled back the building of emotion with a deep, shaky breath, before concluding, "I guess six months was too long to expect him to wait for me."

At this point Angela's expression completely twisted in confusion. "Wait ... Edward broke up with you through Alice?"

I opened my mouth to reply before I stopped myself and brooded over it for a moment, because the truth was I didn't know. In reply, I only half shrugged, and in doing so Angela only became more confused.

"When you got back ... there was no communication from him? Nothing?"

"Nothing," I reiterated, softly.

Angela only gazed at me for a moment, her eyebrows drawing closer together, before she ventured, "B, that really doesn't sound like something he'd do."

It was exactly what my subconscious wanted to hear, to have something to hold on to, but the reality only made my heart clench in pain. "God, Ang ... don't. I can't do that to myself…" I pleaded.

"But you've thought the same thing?" she gauged me, gently.

_Every day_, I wanted to admit; instead, I only nodded, glumly.

"Did you ever think about confronting him?"

"And give him my last shred of self-respect?" I replied, becoming indignant.

"No, to tell him to man up and say it to your face."

"If he wants to be a coward, let him. I refuse to focus on it," I said, quietly with conviction, but it was a lie; it was all I had done since the day I was informed it was over.

She only shook her head, as if trying to make sense of it, when I could clearly see she didn't. Eventually, she seemed to let it go, with a short sigh, before an encouraging smile lit up on her face. "I still think you're ready—at least for a transitional guy. What do you say?"

"Why…?" I asked, her immediately suspicious.

"Ben's cousin is here from Denver. He was in the station yesterday, do you remember?" she asked, her smile growing sly.

I quickly thought back over the events of the day before in my mind, but coming up blank, I shook my head. "I guess I was busy," I offered up as a lame excuse.

Angela only raised one dubious eyebrow. "Busy … at Forks Police Station?"

"Shhh," I mumbled sheepishly in reply.

She chuckled for a moment, before elaborating, "Well, he noticed you, and he said you were pretty"—she raised her eyebrows—"_and_ he's going to be at Ben's party next Saturday."

"But he lives in Denver?" I pointed out.

Expelling her breath, she rolled her eyes. "No one says you have to get married, B."

"I don't know," I concluded, mumbling.

"Bells, you need to break from Edward—you know you do." Her tone was gentle, but matter-of-fact this time, while my heart clenched that little bit more.

**...**

So that was Angela's plan; to break my emotional and physical tie with Edward.

I was formally introduced to Riley, Ben's cousin, the next day. He was nice looking with sandy coloured hair and light blue eyes, but all my mind could process was that he wasn't as tall as Edward, he wasn't as handsome; everything about him was in complete contradiction. This in turn only annoyed me and yanked on the noose simultaneously, and while I fought to internally combat it and get myself under some kind of control, I unwittingly agreed to be his date to Ben's birthday party.

I spent the next week and a half talking myself out of talking myself out of it. Angela was right. I needed to break from Edward. I needed to experience another person if only to prove to myself that I wasn't allowing Edward to stop me from living. In effect I had been doing everything possible to keep Edward out of my life, but apparently I was the only one convinced of it.

"You might not speak his name, B, but you are emitting Edward with every breath you take," was Angela's response to one of my many feeble attempts to wrangle myself out of it.

That one stuck with me; it hurt and made me indignant at the same time—that I was carrying a person—who had such little regard for me that he sent his sister to do his dirty work—around with me every day, everywhere I went.

And it hurt me because it was true.

Regardless of all Angela's pep talks, and every ounce of energy I'd exerted in convincing myself I needed to do it, by the time the day of Ben's party arrived I knew I wasn't going to be able to go through with it. I should have been more than ready, but I wasn't. After 18 months of living without Edward—2 years since I'd physically seen him—I wasn't any closer to moving past him than I was that very first day. It was hard to admit to myself, and was immediately accompanied by shame.

This was not supposed to be the person I was any more.

Of course, it didn't stop Jake and Uncle Billy from practically shoving me out the door to Riley's waiting rusty looking Ute, and even as I walked down the path to meet him, a forced, aching smile plastered on my lips, I fought every step I took. Denial screamed at me, and the noose contracted, but again it was anger that triumphed.

I wasn't angry at Edward this time; I was angry at myself for allowing him to have so much control over me. Realising I was reverting back to old habits. Old habits I had sacrificed Edward to be rid of!

"Hey, gorgeous," Riley greeted me, sounding ridiculously over confident, and making me internally cringe.

"Hey," I forced my voice to reciprocate, making it appear foreign to my own ears.

"You look hot," Riley added, opening the car door for me.

Hot? Were we 16? Even Edward, and all his unrefined teenage language had never called me _hot_.

And as 12th grade aged Edward, with his pile of unruly hair and tall, lean frame popped in my mind, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Thanks," I muttered in reply to what I was assuming Riley thought was a compliment, before climbing inside his car—that smelled of stale cigarettes, reminding me instantly of my mother.

Riley jumped into the driver's seat, and started the engine before pausing. "I'm trying too hard, aren't I?"

His voice sounded suddenly fractured, that I turned to him—only to see the same emotion reflecting in his eyes. An emotion I knew...

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not used to this. I just broke up with my girlfriend 7 weeks ago, and Ben and Ang told me you were going through the same thing—so I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a jerk."

I only gazed at him, unsure of how to respond, as I stared back at the pain I was intimately familiar with. His pain was raw—recent. So recent he was still counting in weeks. I was past weeks; I was into months—almost years!

It cemented in me how pathetic I was that I was _still_ hanging on to him; that despite my carefully crafted routine to extract Edward from my life, I hadn't progressed beyond what to others was painfully new.

I smiled at him warmly—emphatically—before reaching out to grab his hand. "You look like you want to be here even less than I do," I said ruefully, to which he broke into a conceding grin.

"I'm probably not going to be much fun, and if I end up getting drunk and crying all over you, I apologise in advance," he admitted, his smile turning so sad that my heart immediately went out to him.

He didn't cry over me—not that I can remember, anyway—but he did get drunk. Actually, it was me who got him drunk.

And it was him who got _me _drunk.

I hadn't been drunk since the night of Kel's funeral. Actually I hadn't drank a drop of alcohol since that night, but unlike then, there was no crying and throwing up in the bathroom. Unfortunately, I did wake up with the same horrendously disgusting taste in my mouth and bone crushing head ache, but this time I was completely naked, while the person lying unconscious beside me was, for a moment, unfamiliar.

In a rush I knew what had happened, as absolute panic immediately followed. With my stomach lunging and my head pounding beyond what felt incompatible with life, I jumped out of bed, and scrambled to gather my clothes before Riley woke.

Half dressed, and no doubt dishevelled over and beyond what I was feeling physically, I crept out of the room, only to be faced with half a dozen sleeping bodies lying strewn across the living room. One of them was Angela, who seemingly in tune to the movement of the door I just crossed through, instantly awoke.

"B…" she said in a sleepy, croaky voice, that didn't take away from the anxiety behind it.

"Please get me home," I whispered close to tears, while the very action of speaking caused a rolling of nausea to assault my senses. Grimacing, I clutched my stomach, desperately searching around for somewhere to escape.

Instantly on her feet, Angela grabbed my elbow, leading me safely outside where I heaved forth the contents of my stomach all over Ben's mother's chrysanthemums.

"Oh, God…" I moaned pitifully, "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, B," Angela's voice spoke consolingly, in a volume that was very close to torture, as she held my hair back.

It took several attempts to get me home—several to even get me into the car. I lost count of the amount of times Angela had to stop for me to throw up—considering the fact that Ben only lived five minutes from Billy's house—and it wasn't only how much I'd drank that was making me sick.

If only it could remain a physical purge...

Hoisting me over his shoulder, Uncle Billy carried me into the house, straight to the bathroom, where he placed me, fully clothed, beneath the spray of the shower, before leaving me to it. Leaving me to the filtered, shrouded, intoxicated memories of the night before as they came back to me, turning the purge into sobs. Agonizingly, engulfing sobs that felt like they were tearing a hole through my chest with each breath I struggled through.

I recalled, above everything, pleading with Riley to take Edward out of my head, and as the pain in my voice echoed through my mind it rebounded through me, breaking me further open.

It was the first time I'd cried in so long, and the tears flowed effortlessly, but even that didn't make them easier to bear. They weren't stemmed from the grief of losing Edward, or from the wretched physical condition I was in, but from a deep-seated shame that I had somehow betrayed him—betrayed us and everything we'd had. It was completely irrational and I wasn't entirely convinced that I wasn't still half drunk, but I felt like I had completely tainted my body—my body, that had only known Edward—and torn apart the last remaining connection between us.

The connection everyone was telling me I needed to break.

* * *

**A/N: show me some love? Criticism? Is Bella too wussy? But how does one get over their soul mate? Oy vey ... how cheesy was that?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: What does Alice want to talk to Edward about...?  
**

**Just a head's up, because a few people have mentioned it-a few nicely and a few very assholey-when Bella went to Australia after she had the miscarriage she cut off all contact with Edward the entire time she was there. She didn't do it to spite him or to get back at him. She told him they needed a break, (at the end of Ch 2) not that she'd ended it with him. She also needed to focus on getting over her mother. Alice, of course, used it for other reasons...  
**

**This chapter was originally (or secondly) at the end of chapter 3. I actually can't even bloody remember now where it was originally. Ugh...  
**

**And I do like reviews (I'm only human) but I'm just letting you know that I don't approve anons-nice ones as well as shitty ones. You can tell me I suck in a signed review. I won't stalk you and kill your bunny in boiling water or anything...**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 6**

**Edward's POV**

I agreed to meet Alice at Café Ladro on 8th street. I was running late, and when I finally arrived, Alice was sitting on the stairs, looking like the bohemian hippie she now was, smoking—what looked like a joint.

"Jesus, Alice!" I exclaimed, trying not to make my voice too audible to draw attention to us. I was wearing my EMS uniform, after all. "You can't smoke that here."

She rolled her eyes, and took a large drag back before butting it out in her portable ashtray. "Relax, brother dearest. It's Damiana."

"Dami-what?" I asked, before shaking my head to myself and letting it go with a sigh. "Where do you want to sit—outside?" The sun was almost warm today; though, snow was forecast for later in the afternoon.

"Sure," she said brightly, following me up the rest of the stairs to the small outdoor area, and grabbing us a table closest to one of the heaters.

Alice shouted the food, while I ordered the coffee, and as we waited for it to arrive she suddenly pulled out her IPhone and started flicking through her photos.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, taking an impatient breath, after I peered closer and saw the multitudes of Marijuana plants she was skimming through. "Please tell me you're not still trying to get me into this _horticultural_ business of yours?"

Over Christmas her and Jazz had put it to me and Emmett to get on board, and we had to sit through two painful fucking hours of Jazz explain the difference between medicinal and recreational plants. It was like having my brain stapled.

She only waved her hand dismissively at me, her eyes not leaving her phone, before seeming to find what she was looking for. It was then her expression completely changed and when she looked back up at me she looked … remorseful.

"What…?" I queried, confused but semi irritated. The little rat was confusing as at the best of times, but I just didn't have the patience for her much anymore.

"I've done something, Edward. Something I regret—terribly," she confessed, her voice wavering slightly as she kept her eyes steadfast on me.

I only half rolled my eyes. "What have you done that you _terribly regret_," I mocked her lightly, to which she immediately scowled at me.

"You're making it hard to feel bad right now, Edward!"

"Alice, what the fuck are you on about—are you high?" I demanded, peering closely at her eyes. They looked relatively clear to me.

"No!" she snapped. "You always have to be a wiseass, don't you?"

I only scoffed to myself, ironically. Some things never changed. "And you're a pain in the ass, now would you just get on with it? I haven't got time for this shit."

She huffed impatiently, though still looking suspiciously guilty, before her eyes turned back to her phone, where she seemed to deliberate with herself for a moment. When she looked back up at me, she turned the screen to me at the same time. "Do you recognize this person?"

As soon as my eyes focused on the photo, my heart stalled and I almost literally went through the pavement.

It was Bella—but not the Bella I once knew; not eighteen year old Bella, but Bella now a woman. A _beautiful_ fucking woman.

I immediately became flustered, fucking bursting into flames—something I had not felt in six years. "Where—w-when did ... you... show me again?"

With a quiet breath Alice handed her phone to me. I only stared down at Bella, at her eyes, her smile, feeling my heart clench and that familiar gutted feeling rip through my stomach.

"Are you done?" Alice asked me, holding her hand out. Only this time she sounded … weary?

I glanced up at her, placing her phone in her palm, before running my suddenly shaking hand rigidly back through my hair and looking down. It was almost impossible for me to process it; the image of Bella after all this time. The image of Bella clearly inside Alice's house!

Alice sighed deeply, drawing my attention back to her, and when I again met her eyes they only stared back at me looking one hundred percent fucking culpable. "I was afraid you'd have this reaction."

I felt my brow bunch, my eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're better at hiding it than she is," she half mumbled, reaching up to rub her brow, her eyes flickering from mine.

I only stared at her in confusion, becoming quickly impatient, and continuing to feel over-fucking-heated. "Alice, what the hell are you talking about—_what have you done_!?"

When her eyes gauged mine again they were pleading. "I want you to listen to me, OK—and not get ... how you get..."

I could feel my face darkening. "Alice…" I warned.

"Edward"—her eyes were drowning with guilt. I hadn't seen her like this in years—"Bella was only in Australia for about ... six months. She's been living in Forks ever since."

I only stared at her for several moments, trying to wrap my brain around what she'd just said. It was almost as if my mind couldn't receptively translate it. Then it hit me, and I suddenly felt like all the air had been squeezed from my lungs, while my heart rate increased so rapidly, I was breaking into a sweat.

"What…?" I eventually uttered, barely emitting a sound, as I fought to keep my voice measured—still half fucking confused. "You_ told_ me she stayed in—"

She cut me off mid-sentence, her expression becoming more and more overwrought, "Edward—it was a decision we all made, but I was the one to tell you—"

I just shook my head, wondering if she was speaking another language altogether—and if I even knew who she was.

"Tell me _what_?" I demanded, my voice low.

"Tell you ... that she stayed in Australia," she mumbled.

"So you fucking _lied_ to me?" I seethed. I was beginning to feel so angry I was feeling irrational, and I was still struggling to get my head around it.

Bella was here all along...

She nodded, regrettably, opening her mouth to speak when I cut her off.

"Do you have _any_ idea—" I stood up abruptly, jolting the table as I did, needing to put a large distance between the two of us before I did something I'd regret.

Taking several steps down the stairs, with my heart hammering in my ears, feeling so fucking unhinged my legs were trembling, I suddenly stopped, and turned back to glance at her.

She continued to sit at the table looking guilt-ridden and pained, her eyes remaining on me, before she subtly motioned for me to come back, and just as the waitress set down our food.

Shaking my head, and forcing the air through my nose in an attempt to calm myself, I grudgingly walked back and sat down across from her.

Only because, I couldn't walk away without knowing.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she said softly, both her tone and her eyes beseeching.

"_Why_?" I fumed, as I fought to remain in control of my emotions.

"Because, Edward, we—I was so worried about you and Bella. It got to the point where we were waiting for you ... to kill yourself. You never had any control when it came to her. She made you so destructive—the two of you were always on this _collision_ course and making each other completely miserable," she explained, her voice straining and her eyes wide and pleading with me to understand.

But I didn't—I couldn't.

I only laughed bitterly, pissed off at her fucking audacity. "So you felt it was your place to interfere in our lives—to keep us apart—is that it?"

She dropped her gaze from mine, and stared down at the coffee in front of her. "Basically," she admitted softly.

I only stared at her for a moment, before I asked—my voice turning instinctively restricted, "Did ... Bella go along with this as well?"

Bella … I had not purposely spoken her name for so long.

She looked up at me in surprise—almost; though, I wasn't sure, but by this point she was just lucky I wasn't strangling her. "Of course not—see this is the whole problem, Edward. You always believed the worst in her, and you _destroyed_ her when you disappeared—you have no idea do you?"

"Don't fucking turn this around on me, _Alice_!" I seethed through clenched teeth, making her flinch. "I was fucking _nineteen—_we were kids!"

"You're still the same," she replied in an accusing whisper.

"Who _the fuck_ do you think you are!?" I burst, my voice rising, before I dragged my hand back through my hair, forcing my eyes away from her.

I wanted to kill the little rat!

"I'm _sorry_…" Her voice was barely audible, before she released her breath into a long gush, but I ignored her; my mind was becoming suddenly inundated.

If Bella never knew…

"Wait a minute!" I suddenly snapped, my attention zeroing back on her. "If Bella didn't know, why the hell didn't she ever get in contact with me when she came home?"

Her brow creased looking so fucking guilt ridden that I only held my breath; in fear for what she'd say or how I'd react to it, I wasn't sure. "We ... we told her you'd moved to California and ... then met someone else."

She couldn't look at me, and it was just as well, because for a moment I had to physically strain myself.

I just stared at her in anger and disbelief that she could have done that to me—knowing what I felt about Bella, and knowing full well what it would do to me.

What it _did _to me.

"Who else was in on it?" I demanded in a detached, hard voice; though, within me it was the polar opposite.

I was suddenly feeling _everything_.

"Just our family..." she admitted in a small voice. "Though, Emmett said he'd only go along with it so long as you didn't go in the other direction."

"How fucking decent of him!" I retorted, sarcastically, before glaring at her for a moment, my eyes narrowing. "You knew, Alice—you knew how it ripped my fucking heart to shreds."

She shook her head, her eyes beginning to well in tears. "I know. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't think it'd go on for so long."

I was unmoved. "No you're not ... but why now?"

"Huh...?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the corner of her napkin.

"Why. Are. You. Telling. Me. Now?" I repeated, slower, and with growing impatience.

"For a few reasons," she paused to inhale back her tears. "The first, because Bella will be at the wedding on Saturday"—my heart immediately, and quite literally, almost stalled—"the second, because it's obvious now you've never gotten over her, and third, because of Kate."

"Kate?"

"Yeah, Kate. Over Christmas she asked me about Bella, and when I asked her how she knew Bella, she told me you say her name in your sleep every night."

I opened by mouth to speak, but faltered, feeling suddenly breathless and fucking exposed.

"Then I knew…" she admitted, her eyes downcast.

"Knew what?' I asked quietly, dropping my brow into my palm and rubbing it heavily.

"Knew it was time to tell the two of you," she explained gently, "because Bella still does the same thing too."

This time my heart completely fucking stopped. "Does ... _what_…?"

"Says your name in her sleep."

I think I blinked, my breath suddenly drawing in just as I was hit by an avalanche of emotion. It was overwhelming me; like the fucking flood gates were opened after six years of holding it all in—knowing all along she'd been feeling the same thing.

And I was so fucking angry, but so inundated at the same time, and I could still barely comprehend any of it. I started wondering if I was even awake. I'd dreamt this so many times in the past, after all, that it had all been a mistake.

"Jesus…" I whispered, to no one in particular, flattening my now clammy and shaking hands on the table to anchor myself—and so the little rat wouldn't notice.

She did anyway, smirking lightly to herself, before her eyes breeched mine, turning remorseful and beseeching again. "Kate told me you're only half living, Edward," the tone of her voice dropped, "and I realized how unfair it was to you, and what a huge mistake I'd made going along with it."

I snorted, because that was the understatement of the fucking century, but I was still only semi-listening.

This entire time of having my heart repeatedly ripped out every single time I opened my eyes in the morning, thinking I'd lost her forever, when all along she had been only three hours away from me, going through the exact same thing.

"Edward…?" Alice broke into my thoughts, suddenly sounding uncertain.

I looked at her, but I was too preoccupied, my brain, my heart—all my fucking senses were becoming overloaded by all this. I was beginning to feel manic, breathless and suddenly fucking horny.

I wasn't even angry at the little rat any more—at least, I didn't know how to process the anger—or anything I was feeling—at that moment. I was becoming hyped up on adrenalin, and on top of everything else it was making my thoughts slightly erratic.

"Edward?" Alice repeated, her tone firmer this time.

"What?"

"Kate…" she answered, raising her eyebrows in emphasis.

That brought me down for a moment, and Alice didn't need to elaborate for me to understand her meaning.

"Yeah..." I mumbled in agreement, letting go of my breath.

"It's not fair on her. She deserves a man who will give her his_ entire_ heart."

I nodded, forcing Bella from my thoughts to focus on Kate; it wasn't easy.

Kate and I were doomed to fail, but if it wasn't her it would have been the next girl, or the next. With Kate I'd just gone along with the motions to keep her around, but surely she had to be fucking miserable with me?

I was an unfaithful prick—physically and emotionally—but at the time it was easier to just live in denial.

"Fuck…" I said with a sigh.

Alice only watched me, her brow quirked, but said nothing.

"I suppose this was all Mom and Carlisle's fantastic fucking idea?" I burst, feeling my face cloud again, but I couldn't help it; I was so on edge I was snapping between emotions like a fucking elastic.

Alice nodded, conceding. "Yeah … but I think they figured the two of you would work it out eventually, but by that time you'd be older ... and wiser." Her expression furrowed and she shrugged apologetically before adding, "No one meant for it to last this long, but life just kinda got in the way."

I scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, after they fucked my life, they went back to their own."

"I actually expected her to come back to school at some point," she confessed, seemingly talking to herself more than she was to me, "but she didn't…"

"Sure you didn't tell her some bullshit story to keep her away from there, as well?" I accused her.

"No!" she declared, but I only eyed her cynically, unconvinced.

"I'm sorry, Edward…" she repeated, her tone sincere this time, or maybe I was just more receptive to it now.

I jerked my shoulder, not ready to kiss and fucking make up just yet, but I couldn't hang on to it; my thoughts had already switched back.

"Have you told Bella?" I asked. My voice just naturally choked over her name. I couldn't fucking help it; it had become inherent. I hadn't been able to even think her name without it being associated with gut wrenching pain—for six years.

"Uh-huh." Her eyes glazed over as if she was lost in thought for a moment, before she snapped out of it, flashing me a rueful grin. "She threw me out of her house and slammed the door on me."

"Really?" My brows shot up, before I half chuckled through my nose—not that I thought it was funny at all, but it was all I could do now to stop myself from grinning.

But of course, idiot Alice took it the wrong way.

"Yep." She nodded, her grin broadening, but at the same time she looked dejected.

"Does…" I breached, already faltering; I felt like I did when I'd just met her—flooded with insecurity, "she want to speak to me…?"

"No," Alice disclosed, quietly.

"Why?" I asked like a needy son of a bitch, my voice almost fucking failing me.

"Because, you're_ engaged_—she-she doesn't want to get in between … anything. And by the way, you and Kate? Really, Edward? What were you thinking? Even in theory that was never going to work."

"Well _who_ then?" I demanded, fucking offended. "No matter who it was, it'd still never be _Bella_! Take Jazz out of the equation—who would _you_ marry?"

She blinked, her expression evening out in understanding, before nodding, fractionally.

I huffed, frowning, before I asked—holding my fucking breath, "Is she ... with any one?"

And this time my voice_ did _restrict—blatantly. So much so freaking Alice half rolled her eyes. "No"—subconsciously, I let go of my breath—"and _don't_ get like that!"

"Don't get like _what_?" I accused her, snapping back to impatience—impatient with her entire fucking demeanor that this was all a fucking joke. "Don't get pissed off that you and my own mother are fucking liars?"

"Edward," she hissed, lowering her voice, worried about us being overheard.

But I only scoffed. "You shouldn't have brought me to a public place then, _Alice_," I seethed back, unapologetically. "That_ you_ would do this to me just makes me want to _fucking puke_." And with that I stood up out of the chair abruptly and stormed away.

An almost tangible energy was surging through my veins, shaking me to my very core; in fact, I was shaking so much I felt physically unstable. But after six years I suddenly felt like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and the vice around my heart had loosened.

I could feel again.

I could fucking _breathe_ again.

**...**

I called in sick and took the rest of the afternoon off. I was so on edge and distracted I would have been a danger to myself let alone anyone else. I could barely even drive. I went through two red lights and almost ran over a pedestrian. I was a fucking wreck.

Of course, when I eventually did make it back to the apartment, I walked in on Kate, naked and riding her boss backwards. I'd never formally met him before, but he'd always reminded me of a pimp—something he practically was. A pimp who looked like a sleazier version of Magnum P.I.

For the first several seconds I went unnoticed as I stood watching them, feeling my expression twist in repulsion, while it was so fucking surreal I almost burst into laughter.

The moment Kate spotted me she shrieked, immediately covering her tits—which were quickly flushing as heat travelled up her chest—and almost breaking the poor guy's dick as she clambered off him.

"Edward!" She practically fell at my feet, the sheet hastily wrapped around her, leaving Mr. Moustache buck naked on the bed with his hands covering his crotch.

Fuck, it's not like I could blame her, but I decided to make a whole show of being outraged, nonetheless.

I threw shit around the room, kicking closet doors, yelling out how much of a whore she was while Tom Selleck hastily reefed on his Jeans, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he bolted from the apartment.

At this point, Kate came up to me, becoming defensive. "It's not like you've never screwed around on me, Edward!"

"Don't fucking turn this around—you never walked in on me fucking Brokeback mounting anyone!" Fuck me I was almost laughing, and I think Kate must have thought I was in so much shock I was irrational.

"I'm sorry, Edward—let me explain," she pleaded, slinging on her bra.

"I come in here and you're fucking your boss. What is there to say—give me my fucking ring back!" I thrusted out my hand, palm up.

Jesus, I was a terrible actor.

"I don't want the ring," she retorted, wrangling it from her finger and shoving it in my hand as she stood before me in her underwear—on inside out. "I'm in love with Roger."

Roger?

"Who the fuck is Roger?" I exclaimed for the first time genuinely confused. I thought her Boss' name was Nick.

Jesus, she'd probably been fucking as many people as I had…

Shaking her head, Kate pointed to the bed, before quickly switching directions to the front door, as if she'd forgotten he'd already hauled ass.

"How long has Mr. Moustache been your boss?" I demanded. "Were you fucking the other guy as well?"

"No—but let's be honest, Edward." She huffed, throwing on her clothes, as her face flushed deeper. "You've screwed around on me too. You don't love me. You're in love with this _Bella_!"

So she really did know about Bella, and even though I was aware of it, just hearing Bella's name spoken by her stopped me short.

"Ah-ha!" she exclaimed triumphantly, pointing her finger at me.

Fuck it, I gave it up, putting my hands on my hips, feeling slight indignation that she'd decided to do this on my bed in my fucking apartment. At least, I had the fucking courtesy to go to some trashy hotel room.

With a defeated sigh, Kate changed tactics, looking remorseful again. "I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't want you to find out like this. I've been delaying telling you because I didn't want to hurt you."

She was worried she'd hurt me? Jesus, this really was fucked up.

I nodded, deciding to take the high road—because I really was that much of a bastard—and pretended to be injured. "OK—fine. I'm not going to beg you to stay."

"Please understand," she whispered, her bottom lip quivering. "I want someone to make love to me. Not just fuck me. Roger loves me, and I'm the_ only_ girl on his mind."

"_Make love to you_?" I repeated, sarcastically in almost disbelief. "When I walked in that was the last thing he was fucking doing to you_."_

"He makes love to me," she declared, defensively again. "But even when he does fuck me he's thinking about me—not about _Bella from Forks_!"

I flinched.

"What?" I questioned her lowly, feeling my face darken to the point that she almost cringed away from me. "Don't make out you're some kind of victim here, sweetheart. I was your fucking _cover_—to convince your parents you weren't _in fact_ prostituting yourself on a pole every fucking weekend, and giving your fucking tips to your _pimp_!"

"Fuck you!" she snapped, slapping me across the face so hard the sound of it surprised her.

It jolted me and I was immediately fuming. Needing to physically restrain myself, I only placed my hands on my hips, breathing stiffly through my nose, forcing my gaze from hers. But I was disgusted in myself; that I'd fueled my denial and detachment in someone who was basically the female equivalent of what I had let myself become.

"Dammit, Edward!" her tone again switched back to remorseful, almost pleading with me. "It was never going to work with us—why can't you understand?"

She was right, of course, and so with an inevitable, conceding sigh, I let it go.

"I do understand," I relented, deciding to have some decency. "Here"—I held out her ring—"you might as well keep it. I bought it for you. Pawn it if you don't want it."

I figured she might as well come out of this train wreck with something.

She took it, smiling at me warmly. "I tried, Edward. I really did."

She probably did—a lot harder than I ever did.

I only nodded.

I helped her pack her bags, and gather her stuff from around the apartment. I even carried it downstairs and loaded it into her car. I was doing it to ease my own guilt, but it only increased hers.

"Edward, I..." she whispered, letting it go, while the obvious shame she was feeling brought her to the verge of tears.

I only shook my head, silently. Not needing her to explain anything.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, bringing me to her briefly. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." I threw her an awkward, begrudging grin, and watched her go—well, I put in a few seconds after she pulled out, before trudging back to my apartment with my grin again turning unhinged.

I guess the universe owed me a shit ton.

Five minutes later I was heading to Forks—I didn't even dress out of my uniform.

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**A/N: MWAH and thanks for reading.**  
**Thoughts? But I suppose you can lurk if you really want to...**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Wait, what is this madness...? 3 updates in a week? I have NFI what's going on, either. This wouldn't shut up, and I had to break my Sabbath pc fast to update it. Yikes...**  
**Anywho, enjoy.  
Just a head's up. Someone Like You has gone cuckoo and keeps generating updates. It went glitchy after I had to fix a middle chapter and screwed it up myself. Anywho, it's most definitely finished so probably take it off your alerts. **

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All at once  
I finally took a moment  
And I'm realizing that  
You're not coming back  
And it's finally hit me all at once

**All At Once - Whitney Houston**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 7**

**Bella's POV**

I could not shake the feeling that I'd betrayed what Edward and I were, nor the feeling that my body was now tainted. My reasoning was completely unsound, and romanticised by every definition—I knew this, inherently—but I couldn't get past it. All I could do was cry, helplessly, beneath the warm spray of the shower that drenched through to my skin, making my clothes feel as weighed down as my heart was by it.

I'd stopped throwing up; the tears had completely replaced it, but it didn't make me feel any less inundated, nor completely lost. Because that's how I was beginning to feel, as if I was adrift with no control over my destiny; completely anchored to him, unable to move forward.

And I needed to move forward; it was imperative to my very existence. I couldn't go on for much longer like this. Everything I had done to move past Edward had failed, but I didn't realise until that moment just how much. Angela, Uncle Billy, Jake—everyone—had been right. I had to break from him; I had to put him forever in my past and not look back. I just wasn't sure how to do it, and the very idea of it scared the hell out of me.

Okay, having a drunken, one night romp with a person who was little more than a stranger wasn't exactly what I had in mind. All it did was present me with more problems than it solved. For one, I wasn't on any form of birth control and I could only assume Riley had used nothing. It wasn't like I could ever look at him again, let alone ask him, and I was in absolutely no frame of mind to be dealing with an unplanned pregnancy.

It was the very idea of it that snapped the coherency immediately back into me.

Pulling myself, still miserably hungover, from the shower, I peeled off my sodden clothes for several towels, before I headed, with complete self-pity, back down the hall to my bedroom. I couldn't face my uncle or even Jake right at that moment. I was so ashamed of myself, so was careful to make as little noise as possible. In doing so, it only made the conversation my uncle was having over the phone, down stairs, more audible to me. I soon realised it was about me, and the moment I heard my name spoken I stopped dead in my tracks.

"She's not coping—at all," I heard Uncle Billy's voice stress, giving me a sinking feeling he was talking to my father.

There was a pause, to which he replied, "Well everyone thought she'd be better when that boy was out of her life, but she's a shell—a ghost. She goes to work, she comes home, she takes care of me and Jake, but she has that same hollow look in her eyes that she had when she first came here."

Unable to hear another word, I disappeared behind my bedroom door, and leaned up against it; with the sound of my heart drowning him further out. It was both unnerving and exposing to hear myself being spoken about so candidly. It made me feel an inch tall, and just as pathetic, and I absolutely hated the fact that my actions were becoming detrimental to my family.

I refused to keep burdening them with my bullshit. I had to get on top of this.

I had to get over him.

**...**

I slept; I wasn't sure how long for, but when I woke again I didn't feel as vile as I had that morning. It was a good thing too, because I had to get proactive.

Glancing around the room, I quickly spotted my handbag hanging on the hook on the back of my door, with a huge sigh of relief. Not wanting to contemplate where I'd left it the night before, or even how it got home, I climbed out of bed sluggishly and retrieved my iPhone from it.

I called Angela, who immediately answered, as if she was waiting for my call; the tone of her voice gentle and sympathetic. Almost a little too much so. "B … how are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Exactly how I deserve," I replied, my voice hoarse, before I attempted—unsuccessfully—to clear it. "Ang, I'm _so_ sorry about this morning."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," she promised me, her voice so tender it was beginning to upset me. "In fact, I feel terrible for forcing you to get out there when you're clearly not ready."

"But I _should_ be ready, Ang! It's ridiculous—_I'm_ ridiculous!" I burst, while the increased volume of my voice made my head feel like it was going to splinter.

Groaning, I cradled my head into my palm, the phone still held against my ear, while fighting off the sense of déjà vu from the last time I was in this condition.

How Edward, not quite 18 years old, stayed up with me all night getting me through the worst moment of my life.

"Bella, you're not," she insisted, mercifully lowering the tone of her voice, and breaking me from the memory. "Edward was a part of your life when you were in a very vulnerable position. It's completely natural that you became so attached to him."

Vulnerable—there was that word again. A word I absolutely detested.

No more would I be _vulnerable _Bella Swan.

I only sighed shortly—brashly, to which Angela seemed to feel the need to add—something which cracked my heart open that little bit more, "He was your first love, Bells. You will probably never get over him, but that's OK."

It wasn't exactly something I wanted to hear, but taking a large, determined breath, and deciding to ignore all further mention of Edward, I breeched the real reason I'd called her. "Any way, Ang, I think … I think I need to get the morning after pill.

"Oh … babe…" she replied gently.

"Do … do you think you can drive me—I'm probably still over the limit," I mumbled, feeling my face prickle with shame.

"Of course," she immediately insisted. "When do you want to leave?"

"Now."

**...**

"Oh, gosh, B, you look terrible," Angela noted, the moment I climbed inside the passenger side of her VW bug.

I turned to her, still beyond mortified, only to be reassured by the sincerity and compassion of her smile. I returned it self-consciously, before it too quickly turned rueful. "Self-inflicted..."

Her face warmed for a moment, before she straightened up and asked, "So, where to? I was thinking, maybe it's not a good idea to buy them in Forks…" Her voice trailed off in emphasis, not that her meaning wasn't abundantly clear.

This was the downside to living in small towns, and I was certain this was just the kind of juicy gossip Jessica Crowley—nee Stanley—had been holding out the entire year for, and I shuddered to think what was already being said about me...

I only groaned to myself, allowing it to become audible as I wallowed in a moment of frustrated self-pity

"How about we drive to Port?" she suggested, raising her brows. "I bet the sea air would do you the world of good."

"Sure, thanks, Ang," I replied in agreement, immediately breaking into a grateful, relieved smile.

**...**

I hadn't been to Port Angeles since the day I met Alice, and as soon as we arrived it was the very first thing that impressed upon me—the new meaning this picturesque little town held: the place we're my relationship with Edward ended. I hated that I'd allowed it to be just as tainted as I had become, and was immediately determined to extract it from all things Edward and Alice—even if I couldn't say the same thing for myself.

As soon as Angela found a place to park, we headed to the pharmacist to get the emergency pill for me. I took it immediately after, refusing to allow my thoughts to delve deeper surrounding it, before we went in search for lunch. I was still feeling nauseated, but if there was one thing I remembered from all Carol's remedies in Australia was that greasy food was the best thing to cure a hangover.

The third thing we did was sit in that very same gazebo to eat.

Angela had only eyed me dubiously when I suggested it, but didn't question me on it. I wasn't sure if she understood, but I didn't want to fear it—or anything that had a connection with Edward.

Naturally, just seeing it put me immediately on edge, but stubbornly resolute, I refused to allow myself to dwell on it. It helped that most of my focus was spent on trying to hold down my lunch, but after a while I found myself chatting naturally with Angela.

It was just a stupid gazebo, after all; I couldn't let a pile of timber and nails control my life, no more than I could memories—because that's all he was now.

I needed to accept it—I needed to realise it. He was my past, and like Kel, he was never coming back. I had to stop living like he'd never been a part of my life, and I had to grieve for him—really grieve. I needed to cry—over _him_ and not how others made me feel because of him.

If I was going to learn anything from what happened with Riley it was that I was in limbo. I wasn't over him, but I had to _let_ myself get over him, naturally, so I could start moving forward.

Really moving forward.

Of course, I was never going to get over him while I was allowing my emotions to remain so sentimental. I needed to go back to anger—I should have been angry, after all. Australia had been the break we needed—the break he'd agreed we'd needed. He was the one who made me promise I was coming home—that he'd wait for me no matter how long I was gone, and in the end he moved on without so much as a "screw you".

He just disappeared from my life as if he'd never been a part of it.

It still seemed so unfathomable to me, but I had to accept it, and having sex with someone else should have made me feel a lot of things, but guilty shouldn't have been one of them!

I had nothing to feel guilty about, and Riley, in effect, had been a good person to help me break from him.

Riley... As nice as he was, I never wanted to think about him, or that night, again.

Unfortunately, Angela decided to bring him up just after I'd finished my double cheeseburger and was feeling so gluttonously nauseated I was almost swaying.

"God, Ang…" I cringed at the very mention of him, "I feel like such an idiot."

"Bells, this morning he was more worried about you than he was himself. He said..." she added, before immediately abandoning it. A little too abruptly.

"He said…?" I prompted with a weary breath, really not wanting to know.

"He said…" biting on her bottom lip her eyes flickered to the ground, "you were a lot worse than he ever thought he was."

I only gazed at her for a moment, feeling my brow knot. "Meaning…?"

When her gaze fixed back to mine, she looked uncomfortable. "Meaning ... what you're going through with your breakup with Edward."

Expelling my breath, and feeling suddenly defeated, I allowed my head to drop into my hands. "Great... two years later and this is what I'm projecting to people. Could I be any more pathetic...?"

"B, you're acknowledging him now … so it's a definite improvement," she ventured, not sounding terribly convincing.

"Yeah, what a break through…" I muttered sarcastically, shoving another handful of chips—fries—into my mouth and almost gagging.

"Bells, come on. You can't continue to be so hard on yourself."

The only problem was I didn't know how to be anything _but _hard on myself. I _needed_ to be hard on myself, because it was abundantly clear that no one else was going to be.

They all thought I was too _vulnerable_.

**...**

It took me a good week to recover emotionally and physically from my night of drunken debauchery with Riley. The morning after pill made me sicker than my hangover, and the feeling of self-disgust lasted a little longer still. Riley didn't completely break me from Edward, but he did make me realise that the world wasn't going to come to an end if I moved on from him. The one positive was that I wasn't pregnant, and to be honest I wasn't even sure how possible it was for me to fall pregnant any more. That wasn't to say I was going to risk it again, but it didn't mean I couldn't meet new people.

It was the epiphany I needed, and afterwards I forced myself to re-enter the world again, with anger right beside me and dragging denial and heartbreak kicking and screaming behind. I went out with Angela most weekends—I even allowed her to set me up on more dates. I was careful to keep Edward and any memories of him from my thoughts, and when he inevitably creeped in I let my anger deal with him.

After several months, 4 proper dates, and one almost sexual encounter I surprisingly found it was working. My anger at him had remained steadfast, and the guilt and betrayal that had plagued me up until that point began to diminish to little more than a nagging voice at the back of my thoughts.

If I was being brutally honest, the reality was the pain of losing Edward never really went away; I just became better at hiding it and a master at distracting myself from it. It was my dirty little secret, but so long as he was no longer negatively affecting my life I accepted it as is and went about my days with the ache in my heart the only reminder.

An ache I was gradually becoming anesthetised to until I wasn't even aware of it most days, unless I reminded myself.

The only downside was that I didn't cry. I didn't cry—no matter how heartbreaking my dreams became, or how empty they made me feel when I opened my eyes in the morning. I didn't cry when I received a 21st birthday card for Edward that was sent to my old apartment and then redirected to my Uncle's address. I didn't cry when, after cleaning out my room, I found Edward the teddy bear in the place I'd stuffed him the day after I seen Alice in Port Angeles. I didn't cry when Carol sent me a whole bunch of photos of me, Alice and Edward in Australia.

And I didn't cry the day I saw him.

One of the first acknowledgements I made after Riley was that I had to make decisions about my life and what I was going to do with my inheritance. I couldn't continue to sit in the office beside my uncle every day and answer the phone—when it rang once every 30 minutes—or send emails, and make photocopies. These were all things Uncle Billy used to do himself—he didn't need me, and it was only meant to be temporary in the first place.

Initially, I was going to invest the money, and buy a house, but then The Forks Coffee shop was put for sale and without really thinking about it, I bought it. Angela's parents had owned it and Angela often worked there. She was ecstatic that I'd taken it on and agreed to teach me the ins and outs of running it. I didn't realise how over my head I was, and Angela was a Godsend; she taught me the fundamentals—everything from coffee making to book keeping, while her parents helped me with all the paperwork I needed to fill out as well as the taxation information so Uncle Sam could take a cut.

On top of this the restaurant was in serious need of a facelift. I knew I couldn't run it until I knew what the hell I was doing, so I made the decision to close it down to renovate at the same time. Of course, Uncle Billy thought it was a brilliant idea—it was evidence I was staying—and immediately put me in touch with a contractor in Port Angeles who could help me with the renovations.

Angela accompanied me for my first meeting with him, and after spending all morning couped up inside his office going over some of the ideas I had, we were both starving.

Deciding to grab some lunch before heading back to Forks, we set out to walk the three blocks to the café.

"God, I need something hot!" I groaned, shuddering uncontrollably into my coat as snow drifted all around us.

"Well, put a step on it, woman," Angela teased me, linking her arm through mine and hurrying my pace, when she suddenly stopped dead; almost pulling me over backwards.

My first response was to turn to her, and just as I was doing so I saw what had made her react.

I completely froze, the words all but dying on my lips as my heart, my pulse—my entire being, went into sensory overdrive.

There he was.

He was about fifty feet from where we were standing, leaning up against the wall of a storefront with one foot crossed over the other. One hand was stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans, while the other held a phone that he was looking down at—his thumb moving over the screen. His hair—completely different to how I once remembered it—was short and neat, but even that didn't prevent him from removing his hand from his pocket to push his fingers back through it.

In the two and a half years since I last saw him he'd barely changed. He was as ridiculously handsome as he always was, with that brooding, semi-permanent scowl as a part of his expression—testament if nothing else, that he was still as angry as he always was. There was a growing maturity to his face, but in every retrospect he was that same person who haunted my dreams every night.

In the next moment Jazz appeared out of the store, before the two of them headed down the street away from us.

I continued to watch him—I couldn't stop. It was as if time was frozen and I was transfixed, unable to look away. I watched as he walked absently beside Jazz, seemingly occupied more by his phone. He was hunched over slightly—as if he was trying to close the height difference between the two of them, despite the fact that he appeared to be ignoring him. Jazz nudged him then, and in reply Edward openly shoved him.

I almost smiled—I almost cried, and I _almost _called out to him. As if working independently, my mouth opened and I drew in my breath—my stomach muscles tensing as I prepared to raise my voice, when I immediately stopped myself, startled by my own impulses.

"You okay, B?" Angela's gentle sounding voice breeched my thoughts, compounded by the heavy tempo of my heart that was forcing the air rapidly in and out of my lungs.

I nodded quickly, severing my eyes from them, flustered and ashamed for a moment, before the shock of it began to set in. I began to tremble uncontrollably, as a rush of emotion quickly enveloped me.

"Oh, babe..." she whispered, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and turning me in the opposite direction. "How about we get some drive-through?"

Again I only nodded, afraid I wouldn't be able to find my own voice, as Angela led me away, back to her car.

My heart was pounding inside my chest so hard, for a moment I thought it was going to burst through. Subconsciously, I placed my hand over it, feeling the momentum of it, surprised for a moment—at this reaction my body was having. The fact that I was coursing with so much energy, it literally felt like my skin was humming.

It was if I had been shocked back into the living world from the void I'd been enduring, and I hated it.

I hated it because I suddenly realised, despite all my efforts, I was _still_ only half living. He was still having this effect on me, and I honestly didn't think there would be a time when it would be any different.

**...**

It was a good thing I was so busy the next several months, because more than anything I needed to be distracted from my own thoughts. Seeing Edward rocked me more than I was prepared. It again made me question everything I thought I knew about myself; about who I was "post Renee", if I'd ever be psychologically healthy enough to be in a functioning relationship, while the cause of our breakup threatened to torture me day and night.

If it was my fault—if I would push every man away the same way I had obviously done with Edward...

I completely refurbished the restaurant. Uncle Billy, Jake, Angela and even Leah helped out on a daily basis—while my accountant quietly insisted I was over capitalising. I didn't care; I enjoyed it. It was the one part of my life that I was completely in control of, and I wanted to make it apart of who I was.

I renamed it "Kel's", and the day the new sign was installed was the day of the grand opening. Angela agreed to continue to work as a waitress, on top of her job as a photographer at the Forks Forum newspaper, Sue Clearwater was employed as the chef, while my main job was everything from accounting to waitressing, to cooking, to working the register, and cleaning.

We opened to a full house—just about everyone in Forks came out for it, and I was forced to rope Jake and Leah into waiting tables, I was so swamped. I was completely run off my feet and didn't get a second to stop and think; it was for this reason that I didn't realise straight away that Alice and Rose were two of my many customers.

"Hey, Bells," Jake piped up after dumping a full stack of dirty dishes into the sink.

"Hey, Jake," I replied, my eyes not leaving the onion that I was hastily dicing.

"D'you know that Cullen chick and Jane Mansfield are sitting at table 4?"

Faltering, I turned to him, almost chopping off my fingers in the process. "W-What?" I stammered.

"They ordered a _salad_," he relayed, blatantly rolling his eyes.

"_What_?" I repeated, blankly, suddenly unable to process it.

Alice and ... _who_ were here? Rose?

"Go look," he added, raising his brows, before picking up the next waiting plates and heading back into the restaurant.

Following him out of the kitchen, I halted in front of the display of cakes by the register to shield myself and peered into the restaurant. Alice and Rosalie were in fact seated at table 4.

Rose's expression was neutral—much like it ever was, because heaven forbid if she got a wrinkle from offering up a single facial expression! Alice looked … anxious almost. She was fidgeting in her seat, awkward and uncomfortable, as if it was the last place on the planet she wanted to be.

I felt the heat flash across my face, as my heart picked up with the very acknowledgement of them before me—but this time it was with pure, almost debilitating, anger.

Alice had hung me out to dry immediately after her train wreck of her brother did, and I hadn't heard a whisper from Rose since the morning I left for Australia.

They had some nerve walking in my restaurant—especially on the day of its opening!

I walked back into the kitchen, my breath becoming forced rigidly through my nose as I silently fumed.

"Sue!" I said so abruptly that she immediately turned to gaze at me.

"What's up, hun?"

"Is table 4 ready yet?"

"Just about..." she replied, turning back to the skillet of fish she was frying, before serving two pieces on top of the two plates of salad waiting beside the stove and pouring the sauce from the pan over them. "There you go."

"Thanks," I mumbled, picking up the two meals and heading back out.

"Two bottles of diet coke, as well, darl—and try not to poison the guests!" Sue sang out after me, an element of amusement in her tone.

"I've got the drinks, B," Angela said to me quietly as I passed her, no doubt not needing an explanation on why I was suddenly serving this particular table.

"K," I said, my tone stony, my eyes not deviating from Alice and Rose.

As I approached they both looked up, and while Rose's forehead knotted in obvious confusion, Alice seemed to visibly shrink away from me.

I all but slammed the plates down before them, alerting a few nearby diners, before placing my palms flat on the table, leaning closer to them. "Why, _Alice_—what a _pleasure_ it is to see you after all this time!" Sarcasm seeped from every syllable I spoke. "You too, Rose!"

Alice's discomfort level only seemed to rise by several decibels, while Rose continued to gaze at me, her forehead creasing deeper, a brow raised simultaneously.

"Was that ... sarcasm…? Rose asked.

"Is water wet?" I snapped, to which her expression smoothed out in surprise.

"A little high on the hostility meter, Bella, but good to see you again," Rose spoke dryly, all but rolling her eyes to herself, and before I could reply she added, "What made you decide to come back?"

This time it was me who was confused, and hesitating for a moment, I eventually asked, "I'm sorry…?"

At this point Alice jumped in, sounding ridiculously and annoyingly manic as usual, "Bella—we wanted to congratulate you on your restaurant, and I thought, well I was wondering if we could ... maybe talk...?"

I snorted. "I'm way too busy to _talk_, Alice," I replied, my voice hard, "but you guys enjoy your meal!"

And with that said, I turned without another word and headed back to the kitchen, overhearing Rose declare as I went, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Hun—I think you need a drink!" Sue said, looking slightly alarmed through her amusement, and thrusting a glass of wine in my hand, the moment I stepped back into the kitchen.

I downed it in one mouthful, my head instantly going fuzzy, but it worked—minimally—as the chiller I needed to get my head back to work.

Roughly forty minutes later, Angela appeared in the doorway, looking pained. "B...?"

I turned to her, not needing her to elaborate as I all but outwardly groaned. "What the hell does she want now?"

"She wants to see you…"

This time I did groan, expressing my frustration openly as I threw the dish cloth I was using onto the counter and yanked the apron roughly over my head.

She was waiting by the register, looking small and guilt ridden as she gazed around her, obviously waiting for me.

"You're still here?" was my indignant greeting to her.

"I came to pay our bill…" she mumbled, opening up her purse.

Huffing brashly, I held my hand out for the check, which she placed meekly into my palm, before ringing it up.

"How much tip?" she asked quietly as I took my frustration out on the till.

"I don't want your tip!" I snapped, making her all but flinch.

"Bella..." She sighed, sounding jaded.

"_What_!?"

"Can we please just talk? I-I need to explain myself," she pleaded, softly.

"_No_, we _can't_, Alice!" I answered darkly.

"Please?"

Bloody hell, was she about to cry?

"_Why_?" I demanded, unmoved and affronted that she'd just come back into my life after two years and expect _anything_ from me.

"Because, I owe you an explanation..."

I handed her her change, pausing to expel my breath, forcing my eyes away from her. "What makes you think I want to hear it?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't..." she mumbled in a small voice, and when my eyes locked back to hers she offered me a timid, apologetic smile.

"Maybe tomorrow." I jerked my shoulder dismissively. "I'll see."

"Thanks." Her smile brightened a fraction with what looked like gratitude.

I only shrugged, gazing at her and wondering why she was still standing before me—why she wasn't leaving.

"How are you...?" she breeched, tentatively.

"Fine," I answered curtly.

"You don't look..." she began but immediately cut it short, her eyes dropping to the ground.

"_Good bye, Alice_!" I said sharply, before slamming the register closed and storming back to the kitchen.

This was _not _what I needed at the moment—no matter how much denial was presently celebrating. I did not need Alice in my life, and I knew I would never be able to start moving forward with the knowledge that I would again have a connection back to Edward.

_Angry—stay angry_, I commanded myself beneath my breath, forcing my heart to still.

I needed to stay focused on _why_ I was angry; how she and Edward hurt me—crushed me was more accurate—and then simply walked out of my life as if I meant nothing.

I didn't need denial, and hope right now was completely detrimental to me, but already I was so torn. Already, I was thinking ahead of myself—of the possibility that one day I would come face to face with him again...

She couldn't have walked back into my life at a worse time.

**...**

The restaurant was open until 10pm that first night, serving breakfast lunch and dinner. Sue and Angela stayed behind to help me clean up and count the register, but it was approaching midnight and all three of us were exhausted.

"You guys go home. I'll lock up," I offered.

"Sure?" Angela asked, coming over to hug me goodbye.

"Yes, go!" I insisted, smiling at her warmly.

"Okay, well g'night, hun. See you in the morning," Sue said, pulling on her coat before making her way over to me, to plant a kiss on my cheek. "It was a fantastic opening."

"It was..." I agreed with a small smile, only for it to turn to a frown at the memory of Alice.

The universe couldn't let me have one perfect day, it seemed...

As Sue and Angela left, I made my way into the small back office to retrieve my jacket and bag, then making sure the back door was locked, I switched off the lights, and left.

It was a clear January night and deathly cold, and before locking the entrance doors, I looked up at the stars for a moment. It wasn't often that you got to see them in Forks, but tonight there was millions of them.

Inhaling the ice cold air into my lungs, I let myself break into a smile, finding peace in my life for the first time in so long. Despite Alice and Rose today, and my own treacherous desires, I really felt that for the first time in more than two years I was going to be OK.

Pulling the keys from my pocket, I moved to lock the doors when they were suddenly knocked from my hand. In the next moment, I was being dragged up against the side wall of the building, out of view of the main road, a hand covering my mouth, as the stench of alcohol engulfed my senses.

My mind was racing, flooding me with panic, and it was so dark I couldn't see who it was—who was suddenly ripping my coat from my body.

I screamed, but my voice was immediately muffled behind the hot sweaty palm that had remained clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite him, kicking him, while struggling futilely against the tense muscles that pinned me helplessly to him.

Then he spoke and in an instant I knew who it was.

"Bella ... _baby _… you know you want this," the slurring, drunken words of Mike Newton washed over my ear, making me instantly recoil.

Despite all but being suffocated behind his hand, I began to hammer my fists against him, stomping his feet with the heel of my boots, becoming wild in my frantic effort to free myself.

It was working. He was struggling to keep me restrained and subdued, and the moment he released his palm from my mouth I screamed, my high pitched voice piercing the silence of the night.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME, MIKE!" I roared, more panicked than I was angry.

"Not this time, Bella," he taunted me, while the tone of his voice and every action he made was becoming aggressive.

His hands tore at my clothes, groping at me with rough probing fingers, his coarse stubble dragging across my now bared skin; while the acute scent of alcohol on his breath dragged up every nightmarish image of my mother, I'd long since buried.

I continued to fight him, but I was losing. He was too strong and I was too small, and fast becoming exhausted.

"Please—please don't, Mike!' I resorted to begging him, as he pushed and pulled at me, his grunting determined efforts becoming more and more violent.

He wasn't going to stop, and I knew I was alone. I was alone no matter how many times my mind screamed for Edward to help me—for anyone—but no one was coming.

"Stop fighting me—dammit!" he suddenly roared, before his fist struck me across the face so heavily my head was thrown back against the wall.

I came close to blacking out, becoming limp against him as I fought my equilibrium. He had me by the throat now, holding me to my feet, and cutting off my airways as the black shadow of unconsciousness slowly encompassed me. My head was spinning, my thoughts drowning together, but everything was slowing. And as my eyes gradually closed, shutting out the night, as Mike's hands began to claw at my underwear, I saw _his_ face smiling at me—like he used to, as though he wasn't sure whether to laugh at me or tell me how much he loved me.

"Edward…"

I wasn't sure whether I'd been out for a minute or an hour but as lucid thought suddenly took hold of me again, I found myself being held against an all-consuming warmth. A warmth so familiar, so comforting and safe, that I instinctively pressed myself further against it, pushing my face into his chest, as a pair of strong arms encircled around me.

This wasn't Edward, I knew it inherently; his chest was broader, his arms more muscular and he was taller, but his skin was so torridly warm that in one momentous breath I completely surrendered myself in his arms.

* * *

**A/N: Tell me what you think...? Suckage? Mediocre? So-so? Awesome sauce? All of the above?  
And a heads up, no, she is not raped... **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wait, what is this madness? Hey, it wouldn't be protocol if I updated without grovelling for my forgiveness over my horrendous posting tardiness. I hope this chapter has made the wait worthwhile. **

**One more reminder, Someone Like You is still haunted and still sending out update alerts. Spare yourself the agro and take it off alerts, if you have it on. I'm beginning to get fanfic alert phobia from all the wrath its weirdo updates have caused...**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 8**

**Bella's POV**

"YOU, STAY DOWN!" he yelled, the power of his voice commanding immediate authority, as his foot came down hard against Newton's chest, pinning him to the ground.

With one arm he held me to him, as I clung to him desperately, shuddering in the cold as the shock slowly turned my senses in on me. In his other hand he spoke on his phone, to my uncle presumably, explaining what he had come across. His tone was urgent, but in control, and the depth and ruggedness of his voice was immediately soothing.

"Your uncle will be here in a moment, Bella. Hold strong, okay?" he spoke to me, his voice softening as his hand slowly moved up and down my back.

I only nodded, curling myself against his chest and closing my eyes, willing him to be Edward, but finding more reassurance in the fact that he wasn't.

No, Edward was never in this much control—especially where Mike Newton was concerned, and if Edward had been with me right at this moment, I would have found myself more in a panic over what he might do, than my own well-being.

"I didn't do nothing—she was begging for it!" Newton suddenly hollered, his words slurred as he struggled under the foot that held him to the ground.

The same foot that then shoved him further up against the back wall of the restaurant before coming down on the side of his head.

"KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!" That imposing voice demanded again, low and vibrating from his chest—that was strangely comforting.

I felt safe in his arms; safer than I had ever felt in my life. It was the kind of security I'd never felt with Edward, because with Edward his arms signified a lot of things—physical desire, warmth, the sense of affinity—but there was always too much uncertainty with him to ever fully let my guard down.

In the distance I caught the faint sound of sirens, feeling myself almost convulse in relief, and just as this person who held me, moved me slightly back to wrap his jacket around my shoulders. For a fleeting moment, I saw him; I saw him and

I knew him. I recognized the face the moonlight had shrouded in a silhouette, but in the shock of the moment I couldn't process it. Just that he was familiar.

And for the moment that was enough.

**...**

"Bella, you need to go to hospital," Uncle Billy insisted, his tone a strange mixture of anger and concern, as he cupped both sides of my face, angled me to him and peered into my eyes.

"I really am fine, Uncle Billy," I replied in attempt to reassure him, but my hoarse voice continued to contradict me.

We'd been having this conversation for the last couple of minutes, and while my uncle was adamant, I was becoming too inundated, both physically and emotionally, by what had happened to make my convictions stick.

"Bella..." he said with a sigh, hanging his head for a moment, before again meeting my gaze. "Sam said you were barely conscious…"

He went on to explain what was relayed to him while my mind stopped comprehending everything after the word "Sam", and as I contemplated this he pulled out his walkie-talkie and radioed ahead for an ambulance.

Sam...

I turned and looked through the restaurant window out into the darkened street to where a tall man stood, semi illuminated under the street lamp, talking to Ben. He wore only a light coloured t-shirt and a pair of track pants that were cut off at the knees, despite the snow that was still falling around them.

"Sam..." I whispered to myself, only half beneath my breath, before my eyes fell to my tensely folded arms, covered in a fading, navy blue hoodie that was ten-times too big.

"Sam Uley," Uncle Billy elaborated to the question I didn't ask. "He was jogging—like he does most nights. I'm always telling him he's completely mad, but this time..." He left the "what if," that was already beginning to plague my thoughts, unspoken, before pulling me against him.

I was taken to the hospital where, despite my best assurances, I was persuaded in having a rape kit test done. It was far from pleasant; I had to endure a couple of hours of being poked, prodded, swabbed and photographed. It was then advised that I be admitted for observation. At this point I completely lost it, and of course, this only raised several dubious eyebrows over the condition of my emotional state, but all I wanted to do was to put this night behind me in the comfort of my own bed, among my family.

I hated hospitals—especially this one. It instantly reminded me of the night three years ago, when I was admitted with an ectopic pregnancy, and it reminded me of Carlisle, who of course, inevitably led back to Edward.

Edward who would seem was going to haunt my existence forever.

In any sense, I didn't have long to dwell on it, because whatever the nurse had put in my IV knocked me out shortly after, and kept me out for the rest of the night.

**...**

I dreamed of Edward like I did most nights; of that voice that was once so familiar to me, calling to me through a maze of darkness and time, over and over until the sound of my own voice calling back woke me.

I sat up with a start, my heart seizing, before quickly becoming aware of just how much my entire body ached. For a moment I felt immediate panic—as just the act of breathing caused me to openly flinch—until the hazy memories of the night before pushed through my mind as a sense of resignation washed over me.

I was aching from fighting off that bastard Newton the night before, and I was pretty certain the fact that it was almost unbearable for me to swallow was because the son of a bitch had tried to strangle me.

And, sadly it wasn't the first time in my life I'd woken up in this condition. If anything, I knew I'd live.

After yanking the IV stubbornly from the back of my hand, I walked on unsteady legs into the adjoining bathroom—only to almost reel backwards as I was suddenly faced with my reflection. My eyes were a maze of broken capillaries, turning the whites of them completely red, while a deepening purple bruise swelled from my right cheekbone to half blacken my eye—this was on top of my swollen throat that was sporting deep, angry looking hand marks.

For several seconds I only stared at myself as the sense of déjà vu encompassed me. I looked like I'd gone ten rounds with Renee after a bottle of Wild Turkey; at least, in the days before I learned to evade her, and for a moment I lost myself in time. This appearance was so commonplace in my past that it was still so hard to believe that I'd put it all behind me. That Renee was never coming back, but then neither was Kel.

Or Edward...

Immediately frustrated at myself, I turned myself away from my reflection with a huff.

If I let Edward drag me back to the past it would have all been for nothing.

**...**

After being scolded by one of the nurses for pulling out my IV, I was promptly put back to bed; despite all my protests about going home. They wanted me to wait until the doctor was able to see me, around lunch time, and so begrudgingly I complied.

An hour later Uncle Billy came to see me, with blessedly, a clean set of clothes, and the news that the rape kit came back negative—and that weasel Newton had been charged with attempted rape and assault. My father was also flying out, he added, much to my increasing anxiety.

I'd seen The General four times over the last three years, and all under less than pleasant circumstances. Each time he'd looked at me, I swore the weary lines grew deeper in his forehead; rivalled only by his deepening disappointment, I could only imagine. Disappointment over the fact that I, his daughter, was such a pathetic excuse for a person, causing him so much undue stress and worry.

Fragile Isabella Swan. Handle with care, because she might just crack under the pressure…

I felt like throwing a full blown hissy fit, while screaming out that I wasn't this pitiful—not anymore; that the Bella I once was was no more. Instead, I remained quiet while my uncle attempted to cheer me up, forcing the smile to my lips until my entire face ached. I doubt I'd come even remotely close to convincing him, and by the time he left, my rationality felt like it was splintering and I was close to completely losing the plot.

When Uncle Billy left so did my reasoning. For a moment the tears broke free, before I sucked them up, stubbornly forcing myself to hold it together. I was failing of course, and becoming more choked by the second I willingly allowed anger to take the reins.

Anger: the only voice of reason I had left these last couple of years.

"Fuck this shit," I muttered just barely beneath my breath, increasingly annoyed at myself—and more so by the fact that I'd just sounded wholly like that bad tempered boy I once knew—before reefing myself for the second time out of the hospital bed. Though, not wanting to risk the wrath of the evil nurse again, I unhooked the IV this time, and went to have a shower.

When I returned Angela and Ben were waiting for me.

"Oh, B! I knew I should have waited for you last night," she cried, sounding close to tears, before engulfing me in her arms so tightly, I impulsively recoiled away from her, barely disguising the feeble sound that burst from me. "Oh, babe—," she burst in panic this time, "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Ang. It wasn't your fault," I reassured her, allowing her to help me back into the bed, and hating how guilty she looked.

"I can't believe that _bastard_, Newton!" she suddenly spat, her usually warm expression hardening. "He was _always_ a creep."

"I wouldn't worry about him, Bells," Ben added, looking almost bemused. "Sam roughed him up pretty good last night."

"Sam…" Angela put a voice to my thoughts, as I found myself becoming distracted again.

I'd barely seen his face the night before, but I could still recall the feel and warmth of his arms around me, and how familiar it had been. How familiar but at the same time completely unfamiliar. Unfamiliar in the sense that I had never felt so safe and protected in my life—not with The General, or with Jake.

And not even with Edward.

Actually, if I was being completely honest with myself, it was least of all with Edward. Did I ever really feel safe with him? I wasn't sure about any of it anymore—if any of my memories had once been real or imagined, or just manifestations and projections of dreams…

Perhaps in light of what had happened the night before my perception had become skewered, but I couldn't shake it; the undeniable sense of security I'd felt with Sam. It was so strong it had surprised me; creating the stirrings of a longing I had not felt in so long.

**...**

The doctor finally made his rounds, flashing a light in my eyes before asking me the usual questions: did I feel dizzy, did I have a headache; did I have any self-respect left?

Okay, well, maybe not; though, I was sure he was thinking it. In the very least, I was channelling it to him.

In any case, with two prescriptions in my hand—one for physical pain relief, the other for mental—I was free to go with the promise to take it easy for the next few days, and to come in "post haste" if I began to feel at all unwell.

"Not bloody likely," I grumbled only fractionally to myself as he shuffled from the room, before bending down to grab my bag from beneath the hospital bed. Slinging it over my shoulder in a fit of annoyance, I turned to leave, and just as I reacted to the pain that immediately assaulted me, I promptly hit a brick wall. I literally head butted this wall of solid mass, and rebounded, suddenly facing the ceiling.

That was of course, until a strong pair of hands instantly reached out to steady me—and before I again stumbled into a complete ambience of calm and warmth.

It was almost literally tangible, and for one brief, albeit slightly delirious, moment the compulsion to simply lay my head against it completely overtook me. Actually, considering the frame of mind I was in, it didn't appear nearly as delirious as it should.

And I was tired. Just … tired ... and suddenly gazing into a pair of dark—incredibly dark—eyes. Eyes so dark they shouldn't have appeared so kind and temperate, but they did; eyes rivalled only by a completely tender, responsive smile.

Sam.

"Hi—Bella. I-I just came to see how you were. Are you leaving?" he blurted out, before his brow furrowed over his almost slate black eyes.

"Uh-yeah, I am," I stammered in reply, throwing him a hastily put together smile, and sounding almost as unhinged as I was suddenly feeling.

"How you doing?" he asked, his face relaxing before he again broke into a smile.

"I'm OK," I admitted. "I'm a little beat up," I gestured to my face, "but I'll live—thank you, by the way! I-I never got to thank you last night."

"Don't mention it," he replied, looking sheepish for a moment, before straightening himself up and asking, "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

"Uh..." I faltered, my thoughts racing ahead. "I was going to call Uncle Billy or Jake to come and pick me up."

"I can take you—I don't mind," he offered, his brows rising higher on his forehead.

"You sure?" He was so tall, with muscles running the length of him, but those thoughtful eyes...

"I'm sure." His smile broadened, before he centred it fully on me, making me feel suddenly flustered—to the point that I was unable to hold his gaze.

"Thank you," I mumbled, staring down at my feet.

Good grief—was I suddenly going to start giggling like a school girl?

Sam led me to a faded yellow, beat up looking ute, where he rushed forward to open the door for me. "After you."

I only smiled, but I knew it wasn't coming off as natural. I absolutely didn't know how to behave and it was completely throwing me.

What was wrong with me?

After climbing into the driver's side, Sam slid his key into the ignition before turning to me, when something seemed to make him pause, and for a moment he only gazed at me.

It wasn't that he was looking into my eyes; it was that he was staring _at_ my eyes.

"Wow…" he murmured, seemingly more or less to himself, while the act of speaking appeared to snap him out of it, and he cleared his throat quickly.

I only broke his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward and self-conscious and unsure how to respond.

"To your uncle's?" he asked a moment later, returning my attention to him.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

Flashing me a quick grin he started his car and we set out for the forty minute drive back to Forks.

After my initial apprehension, and bout of shyness, I soon found that talking to Sam was relatively easy. He was so warm and friendly, and despite the fact that I noticed him glance at my eyes several more times during the ride home, I found myself relaxing more in his presence.

He spoke about himself casually and with a natural modesty. He was a carpenter, he explained; though, he was often contracted for everything from plumbing to dry-walling.

"I'm a jack of all trades, but a master of none," he joked, grinning to himself before glancing over at me.

I only returned his smile, but I was becoming too aware of the reaction I was having to him. How every time he rested his eyes on me my heart stuttered and my thoughts completely abandoned me. I was sure I was just suffering from some kind of Florence Nightingale Syndrome, but at the same time, I genuinely wanted it to be real. Because for the first time in three years I was feeling something I thought I'd never experience again. I couldn't give a name to it just yet, just that I didn't want it to stop.

I let Sam speak for the most part; his cheerful voice was comforting, and I had a lot to process.

He told me how he coached Little League for the boys on The Reservation who had no fathers, and of course how he liked to run at nights.

_And thank God for that_, my lingering anger reminded me, while denial only screamed one name at me over and over again.

That one name repeatedly running through my mind, drowning out Sam and the warmth of his voice, making me suddenly feel overloaded and distracted. A not so subtle voice alluding to me that it would never be the same—I'd never feel the same—until I began to be filled with an angry resolve.

_Who says I will never feel the same?_! I came very close to blurting out loud, when I suddenly realised that we'd arrived at Uncle Billy's, and Sam had turned to me, staring at my eyes again.

Straightening myself up quickly, I threw him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Sam."

"Don't mention it," he replied, but it was him who was beginning to seem distracted this time.

I moved to leave, grabbing the handle of the door, when I immediately turned back to him, asking him quickly, before denial could talk me out of it, "Will you let me cook you dinner sometime?" The smile had already began to brighten his expression, when I elaborated hastily, "I have to thank you properly, after all."

Bloody hell, I sounded like a hooker!

His smile broadened; to the point that he almost began to chuckle. "Sure."

And for a moment all thoughts of that name and the internal struggle I'd been wrestling with on the drive home faded away.

For one moment I was optimistic everything was OK. I'd be OK.

**...**

Uncle Billy insisted I stay home for a few days to recuperate, and Angela, the rat, sided with him, assuring me that she was taking care of everything at the restaurant.

Common sense told me I needed time to heal, and as I currently looked, I'd probably turn the diners off their food, but at the same time, I _needed _to keep busy. Being alone with my thoughts was not something I wanted to entertain, and denial was a master at getting into my head as soon as I became idle.

It was this reasoning and this reasoning alone, why I agreed to let Alice come and visit me.

God only knows what I was thinking. Alice was a _direct_ reminder, not to mention every single memory that was connected to her. Then there was the fact that my denial went into overdrive in her presence, along with something that was ten times more detrimental to me: hope.

So naturally, in an effort to calm myself down, and pull myself somewhat together as I waited for her to arrive, I poured myself a wine, and then another; and then another...

You would have thought, in lieu of my previous experiences with alcohol, I would have seen the error of that decision, but no. The fact that I was increasingly turning to alcohol to help get me through things was also typical of just how dysfunctional I had become, but at the time I was so consumed by Alice's visit, I was unable to see it.

I was so determined to not slide back into old Bella's habits, but old Bella would never have touched a drop of alcohol for any reason. An irony which was lost on me, obviously.

Nevertheless, by the time Alice arrived, I was not quite drunk, but well on my way there.

"Hey, Bella," she said warmly, but somewhat apprehensively, after I'd reefed open the door, almost tripping myself over. This was only seconds before her entire face transformed into horror, at the no doubt, hideous state of me, I was guessing.

"Mary-Alice Cullen!" I burst, while every syllable I spoke was seeped with sarcasm.

Mary-Alice was Alice's real name—a name she absolutely hated. She was named after a distant aunt who was sent to the infamous Trenton State Hospital in New Jersey for the clinically insane—as a reminder that people used to be superstitious, small minded idiots, she'd once explained her mother's reasoning to me.

At the time—it was only a couple of months after I'd moved to Forks—I wanted to ask who Edward was named after; a distant relative who'd had a Narcissistic Personality Disorder?

Esme had named all her children after obscure relatives, as a family tradition. Of course, being newly emancipated from one-horse-town New South Wales, I thought it was a romantic idea, but now it only seemed snobbish and ridiculous. But then, my opinion of the Cullen family had taken a nose dive after my experience with Edward and Alice. And for whatever reason, Esme especially had left a bad taste in my mouth, but then I'd never fully forgiven her after she'd referred to me as "that girl". In the tone she'd used—so full of disdain—she'd reminded me so much of Renee, and I always suspected she thought I wasn't good enough for her precious son.

Her son, who for as long as I'd known him, had shown barely an ounce of respect for her. In fact, it often alarmed me by just how disrespectful to his mother he was. After all, if he could talk to his own mother in such a way, how would he inevitably treat me?

Even then there'd been warning signs…

Alice let my remark slide; though, not quickly enough for me to detect the offense she took to it as it flashed across her face. She then quite obviously masked it by forcing a smile to her lips, making me smirk to myself before moving aside to let her in.

"No Rose today?" I observed, my tone remaining cold.

"No, she had to get home to her baby," she replied, quietly.

"Baby?" I echoed, blankly.

"Yeah, EJ. He's nine months old," she explained, her expression brightening instantly, and I immediately felt that familiar pang deep inside of me.

"EJ ... as in ... Emmett Junior?" My voice faltered; I quickly cleared my throat.

And this time it was Alice who'd noticed; her expression turning tender and empathetic before I could prevent it. That was until I immediately scowled at her; the warning behind it clear.

"Emmett Junior, that's right." She snapped back to the subject, pulling out her phone, and scanning through her photos, before holding up a picture of a chubby baby with dark curls, and sporting a rather cheeky grin on his face that rivalled his father's.

"Cute," I mumbled.

"He was twelve and a half pounds when he was born, and Rose swears over her dead body that she'll never do that again," she added, her tone relaxing as she explained, and for a moment I broke into a natural smile.

For a moment…

"Well, next time you see her, tell her I said congrats," I said with deliberate indifference, leading her into the living room.

"Okay..." her tone once again fell, before she sat beside me on the sofa, her eyes dropping to the floor.

For several seconds she appeared to debate with herself on what she was going to say, as I gazed expectantly at her; the alcohol in my bloodstream making me feel more and more agitated.

When she looked up at me again, her expression became ... disturbed, and it was obvious she'd changed track. "I heard that asshole, Newton, had attacked you, but I had no idea..." she left the rest of it unspoken.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging a shoulder dismissively, irritated by the mere mention of him. "He's pleaded guilty—and I just want to put it behind me now."

She nodded slowly, her eyes inspecting me closely—almost identical to the way Sam had a couple of days earlier, that it quickly annoyed me.

"What did you come here for, Alice?" I suddenly snapped, making her jump. "To console with me over that _pissant,_ Newton?"

Pissant ... it wasn't a word I often, if ever, used, and even as I spoke it allowed, a very different voice echoed it inside my head.

Huffing my breath, I dropped my forehead into my splayed palm and rubbed at my brow heavily with my fingertips. Of course, Alice mistook my body language as being directed at her, and decided to start apologising profusely.

"You have every right to be angry at me, Bella, but please let me explain," she elaborated on her repeated "I'm-so-terribly-sorry"s, before I broke in angrily, unmoved by any of it.

"Explain what, Alice? What a poor excuse for a friend you were?"

"I ... pretty much ... yeah," she conceded with a sigh, before again dropping her eyes to her feet.

I remained silent; one part completely indifferent to her, the other beginning to feel the room spinning.

When she finally braved a peak at me, she appeared to shrink further away from me. I had no idea why; unless I looked as manically unbalanced as the alcohol was beginning to make me feel.

"I feel so bad, Bella," she whispered, and this time, she appeared completely sincere, and it affected me for a second, giving Alice the confidence to expand on it. "You don't understand—I was put in such a terrible position, and ... and well, I thought that me, being Edward's sister, you'd want me out of your life as well."

As well?

This is when I snapped—well and truly, totally, unmitigatedly, snapped—leaping off the sofa and turning on her. "YOU'RE PUTTING THIS ON ME?! ARE YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING TELLING ME THAT_ IT WAS ME_ WHO BROKE UP WITH EDWARD?!" I exploded, and I immediately saw her expression alter—how much she'd regretted speaking those words.

"N-no!" she declared, pulling herself to her feet after me. "I didn't mean it like that."

I ignored her, breathing stiffly for a moment to regain some of my self-control, before I continued, seething at her through barely clenched teeth, "Don't tell me how bad you feel, _Alice_—and what a terrible position it put you in, because it wasn't terrible enough that it stopped you doing his dirty work for him, _was it_!"

She only shook her head, seemingly lost for how to respond, not that I was going to let her, anyway.

"What a coward you are—what you both are!" I spat.

"Bella—that came out completely wrong. Please let me explain," she pleaded, but from her expression it was obvious she knew it was becoming hopeless, and the momentum was only beginning to build within me.

"You cut me out of your life, Alice—you were my best friend and you completely fucking ended our friendship as if it never meant anything to you!" I accused her, feeling the hurt and pain resurface in me again. She only nodded, guiltily, remorsefully, not even bothering to contradict me. "You treated me exactly like _he_ did—so you're right about one thing; I don't want either of you in my life, ever!"

"I'm sorry, Bella. It's all I can say," she said quietly, her head lowered.

"No, you're not!" I countered her, defiantly. "If you were, you would have made your brother man up and fucking break up with me _himself_!"

Alarm bells were beginning to go off inside me. I was saying too much. I was giving away too much.

"I-I thought it'd hurt you less, if I did it," she made a pitiful excuse for an explanation, her eyes remaining locked to the floor, unable to meet mine.

"_HURT ME LESS_?" I screeched bitterly, ironically. "You couldn't give _a fuck_ about me, Alice. You were protecting your brother—like you always did. In that creepy—not to mention seriously fucking disturbing—way where you used to insert yourself into everything he did!"

She looked up at me this time, her eyebrows shooting high up on her forehead, but even that didn't overshadow her complete surrender to guilt, and it only incensed me more.

"I don't forgive you—I will never forgive you, and I can't, anyway. I can never be your friend again, because you are a constant reminder of him, and I do not want to EVER risk having to come face to face with him ever again—ever!"

I was well past the point of rambling now; I had advanced to verbal diarrhoea, and I was pretty sure I had just validated Alice's initial excuse for why she'd ended our friendship. Something that sparked immediately in her expression. Straightening up, she opened her mouth to reply, but I pre-empted her before she could utter a sound.

"Don't you dare!" I held up my hand, suddenly so angry it began to tremble. "This is _not _about me—this is about you, because if it was Kel, I would have faced that asshole every single day of my life, no matter what he did to me," I was beginning to falter; so much emotion was beginning to pour out of me that it was beginning to break me down. "But you ..." I concluded, my voice becoming all but a whisper. "You're not worth it."

I'd hurt her this time, and as her eyes slowly welled with tears, my heart had the audacity to break for her. "I-I thought you were over all that now…" she spoke softly, seeming surprised that I obviously wasn't.

It was as if she'd rubbed salt into a very sore and open wound, and spat on me at the same time.

"Over it?" I repeated in disbelieve. "Are you kidding me? What your brother done to me I will _never_ get over. No one has ever hurt me more than he did. Not even my own mother. _Her_ I'm over—your_ brother_ I'll never be."

Her expression seemed to fracture, before she held her arms out to me. "Oh ... Bella…" And what she was expressing I had no idea, but if it was pity, I would most definitely murder her.

Impulsively, I stumbled away from her, my anger again taking over where my pitiful sentiment was crashing. "Don't touch me!" I warned her, as her arms immediately fell back to her sides. "What did you think I'd feel, Alice? Are you really that much of a heartless bitch?"—she shook her head adamantly, but I continued on regardless—"Your train wreck, emotionally crippled—lying—coward—manic depressive—complete ... complete—fucking mental case of a brother"—I was ranting, unable to stop, even when what was left of my rationality was screaming at me to shut up—"completely fucked with me every single day that I knew him. He made me promise after promise that he broke—he got me pregnant and then made me believe he was DEAD. Then afterward, he just discarded me, as though I was nothing—and he didn't even have the _spine_ to say it to my face!" I was becoming more and more irate the further down I went, while Alice only stared back at me, looking not only more culpable by the second, but as if every word I spoke physically hurt her. "He gave me no closure, Alice—nothing, to get past it, and I had no one to talk to about it because you—my supposed best friend—dumped me just as quickly as he did. You blocked me on Facebook—even Jazz blocked me!"

"You unfriended me," she offered up meekly, as some kind of justification.

I only scoffed at her. "And then you blocked me as if I was fucking victimising you!"

For a moment she only gauged me, before expelling a long, heavy breath and once more lowering her head. "You're right, Bella—about every bit of it," she confessed, her voice soft and wavering. "I felt so bad for what I did, and I couldn't face you. I was only thinking about myself. But stupidly"—she raised her head and suddenly stared straight into my eyes"—I thought that after I told you about Edward you'd be ... relieved."

"I-I'm sorry…?" I stammered after a moment, unsure that I'd heard her correctly.

Relieved? She thought I'd be relieved…? Did she think she was doing me some kind of favour?

"I-I mean the two of you together were so destructive," she added in what I assumed was an attempt to explain herself better, "I thought apart of you would feel happy."

"You thought I'd be happy?" I questioned her, my tone devoid of all emotion out of sheer bewilderment, if nothing else.

"I-I dunno…" she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, looking helpless again and once more breaking my gaze.

"Alice—bloody look at me!" I immediately snapped at her, to which she reluctantly did.

"I'm an idiot, Bella. I completely underestimated your feelings for my brother," she admitted after a moment—where I only glared at her—her remorse turning her tone beseeching. "I told myself you wouldn't want me around because it was easier for me that way."

I only stared at her, suddenly feeling engulfed and completely inundated by the emotional purge that had inevitably happened. For at least a minute neither of us spoke; nor did we look at each other, until I reluctantly broke the silence.

"I'm not sure where to go from here, Alice," I conceded, my voice softly breaking, and if I was referring to her or her brother, I wasn't sure.

I was never going to get over Edward. I knew this now, but at the same time, I felt OK about it. Ang was right; who gets over their first love?

I had to learn—once and for all—to live without him, and to make peace with the fact that along with Kel, and my mother, Edward was my past. Anger was only going to take me so far, and for the sake of my own sanity I not only had to put him behind me, but I had to forgive him.

We were only kids, after all, and I'd always expected way more from Edward than he was capable of giving. I was just as much at fault that our relationship was a disaster waiting to explode as he was. Maybe Alice made some sense—maybe a part of me should have been relieved when it was over.

I wasn't sure if I would ever learn to be relieved, but I knew one thing; after tonight, I was half way there, at least.

I had accepted it.

Something seemed to snap in Alice, and raising her chin, a look of resolve suddenly replaced her guilt ridden expression. "This has gone on long enough…" she suddenly muttered, and I wasn't entirely sure if she was talking to me or herself.

"What has…?" I asked with uncertainty.

She shook her head once to herself, as if clearing her thoughts. "I've got something to tell you." And again it was as if she was debating herself. "Can we meet up again tomorrow—I have to speak to someone first."

"I can't," I replied, my confusion by her rapidly changing demeanour making me feel drunker than I otherwise was. "I have a date with Sam."

* * *

**A/N: For those with the patience to have stuck around, I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to comment, PM, review, flame, ignore, flounce ... whatever's your poison.**

**MWAH xoxo**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Well this is a strange turn of events... Here's the thing, chapter 9 (which I was originally going to post on Saturday) was mammoth, so I decided to cut in in half, and post the first half straight up-because I've been such a shitty updater.  
Am I forgiven?**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 9**

**Bella's POV**

My father arrived the next day; effectively diverting my focus from Alice's disastrous visit. I was absolutely mortified that I'd confessed so much to her—that I'd told her in essence the very thing I'd been trying to convince myself, and everyone else around me, to the contrary, for 3 years; that I wasn't over Edward, and I probably never would be.

But hey, alcohol had only left me confessing my closely held secrets every other time I'd turned to it; why not this time too?

In any case, I'd accepted the inevitable with Edward; I just wasn't ready to start advertising it, yet.

Of course, with The General came a whole new set of issues to keep me relatively distracted from the ghost of boyfriend's past—and his creepy, weirdo sister. How to survive the week without feeling like an abject failure of a daughter, was one of them. As it was Charlie's concern seemed limited only to my physical condition. I was guessing Uncle Billy had filled him in on all the recent happenings, from the opening of the restaurant to Sam.

Sam...

He arrived right on 6 pm.

Uncle Billy had promised me he'd remove my father from the house by 5:30, but Charlie had deliberately delayed leaving, and was still lingering inconspicuously by the living room window by the time Sam's car pulled up out front.

I had no choice but to make introductions, as I suspected was my father's motives. Though, after becoming acquainted with Sam, and looking as pleased as punch, Charlie appeared all too happy to leave; whistling to himself down the path as he went.

It was so obvious I wanted to melt through the floor in humiliation, and I couldn't help but to compare it to my father's interactions with Edward. If anything, he would have never left the two of us alone in the house; rather he'd plant himself between us on the sofa and insist on watching TV with us, while shooting off intermittent warning glares at Edward.

Charlie had never liked Edward—he'd made no secret of it. It had really bothered Edward by how much my father didn't trust him, and had become the topic of many of our arguments. I had always been torn straight down the middle.

Charlie had invited Sam inside, and as he stood in the foyer gazing easily down at me with a warm smile inching across his face, all thoughts of Edward were immediately pushed from my mind.

"Hey, Sam," I greeted him, reaching out to him before immediately second guessing myself.

What had I planned on doing? Kissing him? Hugging him? Shaking his hand?

I was so rusty at this kind of stuff...

Naturally, there was a moment of awkwardness, but it was quickly broken as Sam whipped out a bunch of flowers from behind his back. "For you."

"Oh," I said in surprise, taking them from him and breaking is gaze. "Aren't you sweet?"

I turned my back on him and headed toward the kitchen, all in an effort to prevent him from seeing how flustered I could feel myself becoming. "Would you like a drink?" I asked quickly over my shoulder.

In the second that our eyes met, he smiled. "Sure," he replied, following me into the kitchen.

I had planned on cooking him something at the restaurant—it was open for dinner every Friday and Saturday—but I didn't like the idea of having an audience. Forks was a small town, after all, and by this point, the locals had all become well informed of what had happened the week before—Sam had become somewhat of a celebrity.

So, Uncle Billy's kitchen it was.

"Take a seat," I offered, gesturing to the dining table in the middle of the room, before grabbing the handle of the refrigerator. There were Heinekens inside; something I'd never seen before. Uncle Billy and Jake only drank Bud Light, I noted, smirking to myself. Grabbing two, I turned back to him. "Beer?" I offered, holding them up.

His grin broadened a fraction, before he nodded, "Sure."

_Two "sures"_, I mentally calculated. I was hyper aware, for some reason, and I was anxious—anxious to not come across as just as much of a flake as I did when he drove me home.

Opening the two bottles, I set one in front of him with a quick smile, before turning back to the oven. "I heard you like nachos." Actually, Jake had made a pointed effort of informing me the day before.

It was encouraging to know my family were all too happy to aid in my love life...

"That I do," he commented, as I took the large dish out of the oven, placing it in the middle of the table, before retrieving the avocado and sour cream out of the refrigerator.

I'd made a lot; Sam was 6"4—a piece of information Jake also felt the need to pass onto me—and after almost five years of living with my uncle and cousin, I knew how to feed large men.

"Are you eating too, Bella?" he enquired, meeting my gaze, after I took the chair opposite him.

"I am," I replied lightly, picking up a corn chip and scooping up a pile of meat and cheese. It was such a humungous serving, after all; I just figured we could share it.

"Ah, so that's how we're doing it," he observed, his tone teasing before he dug in after me.

We chatted easily, joking around with one another as we ate. At one point Sam smudged my nose with sour cream, and while I attempted to do the same to him, I ended up wearing it all over my t-shirt. He was uncomplicated, and it was so easy to laugh with him—and that sense of assurance with him was ever constant. I began to really loosen up around him, until I noticed he began looking into my eyes again. It was as if he was trying to read them, and whatever he saw reflected back concerned him—disturbed him, almost. It immediately broke the mood between us, turning me self-conscious once again, and soon Sam became aware that _I_ was aware of it.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he explained to me delicately, before his eyes once again locked to mine. "It's just..." the tone of his voice softened further, as if to spare me from whatever he was about to say, "you are carrying around some really _heavy_ stuff."

I only blinked, feeling my heart pause, unsure how I was supposed to respond; how I was supposed to react. He was seeing directly inside of me, and I wasn't sure I liked it—that I was an exhibit to all the pain and heartbreak I fought every day to overcome. It made me feel forever exposed and vulnerable.

Vulnerable: that word again that would forever shadow me, it seemed.

Breaking the intensity of concern behind his dark eyes, I looked down at the near empty bowl of nachos.

And in an obvious effort to spare me anymore discomfort, Sam added, "You know if you need a good distractor, I can help you out."

When I looked back up at him, to gauge his meaning, he smiled, gently, but with growing encouragement.

I only returned it, albeit sheepishly. "What do you have in mind…?" I ventured.

He opened his mouth to answer, when he paused, smiling slightly to himself, "You might want to wait until you've fully healed, first."

I was immediately cynical, but more than a little concerned at the same time. By the very nature of him it had to be something physical, but the only physical thing I'd ever done in my life was ride horses...

"Should I be worried?" I asked lightly, feeling the smile again creep across my lips.

He chuckled. "No. You can trust me, Bella." His tone softened again, letting me know in no uncertain terms that it was a double meaning.

I really could trust him.

**...**

Our awkward moment passed without too much of a setback, and we soon fell back into easy conversation. He was so incredibly warm and outgoing, that it was a constant distraction from the fact that I was becoming more and more _sensitive_ to him. He brought out in me a strange kind of flustered ease.

A comfortable desire.

It was so pleasantly unfamiliar that I began to wonder how I had ever lived without experiencing it before.

I had known longing and passion to the point that I barely had control over it, but never in my life had I ever felt this kind of security wrapped up in physical and emotional attraction.

I felt drawn to it; drawn to_ him_.

**...**

"I'm sorry I turned everything awkward earlier," Sam confessed, as we stood at the front door saying our goodbyes a couple of hours later. He was looking into my eyes again, but this time he was staring straight down through them.

Breaking into a smile, I waved my hand dismissively, before wrapping it around my shivering body. "It's fine."

"You're cold?" he asked, quirking his brow in semi-amusement at me.

I half chuckled. "I'm from Australia—I'm always cold."

His grin only broadened, becoming tender as he continued to gaze at me. "Thanks for dinner, Bella," he said after a moment, his tone turning husky.

"You're welcome," I replied, my voice almost instinctively mirroring his, as my heart began to accelerate.

And then, needing to close the more than a foot of height between us, he bent down and gently pressed his lips over mine.

I was immediately enclosed in warmth so resonating that I almost physically wavered beneath it. Reaching out I grabbed hold of his shirt, pulling him closer to me as I curled myself against his firm, powerfully built chest. He was the embodiment of redemption and I was suddenly craving him in bucket loads.

When he released me I almost stumbled, feeling drunk and unbalanced for a moment, needing to grab hold of him again to anchor myself.

A breathy sounding chuckle left him. "You okay?"

I nodded, too hastily, before looking up to meet his gaze. He was smiling down at me, his forehead slightly bunched, as though he was looking like he was trying to work me out.

"We should do this again," I murmured, sounding slightly incoherent, before I attempted to disguise my manic state behind a smile.

"We should," he agreed. "And don't forget to call me when you're all healed." He winked.

"I will," I promised, my tone turning somewhat wry.

And with one last parting grin, he turned and walked down the path toward his car, turning back once to wave to me.

I waited, shuddering uncontrollably on the porch, until his car disappeared from sight, before returning inside, and heading straight for my room. It was past midnight and I was back at the restaurant in the morning. Though, I wasn't sure how I'd be able to sleep. I was feeling completely overrun with anticipation, but at the same time, I could still feel that same sense of betrayal lingering in the back of my thoughts. The same way I'd felt after Riley at Ben's party. As if I had betrayed Edward again.

Betrayed Edward...

It was completely ridiculous and only served to make me angry—completely reversing my mood as I fought to throw it off.

Sam was amazing, and Edward was the one who'd betrayed me—I attempted to convince myself as I got ready for bed, but it was no use. The agitation behind it remained with me into the early hours of the morning, until out of exhaustion, if nothing else, it finally released me into sleep. But just as the shroud of oblivion overtook me, my denial reminded me one last time, almost mocking me, that with Sam I had not felt the same as I had with Edward, and I never would.

And this time denial was right.

…

The following weeks ushered in a huge shift in my life. I was back at the restaurant where I belonged, and where I now spent the majority of my time, I was entering my first real relationship since Edward, and I moved out of my Uncle's house.

It was the General's idea. I was twenty-two now; I had my own life, and now my own business. I needed to start standing on my own two feet. He'd left home at seventeen, after all. To him I must have been practically a spinster.

But he did have a point.

I had enough money left over from my inheritance from Mommy Dearest for a decent deposit, and before Charlie returned back to the Navy, he helped me house hunt.

I soon realised Forks wasn't going to be an option; there wasn't a single property for sale that suited me. But after expanding beyond the boundaries, we eventually found a house in Beaver on Lake Pleasant. It was a three bedroom, two bathroom two story house with a detached garage. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but I think that's where my father planned on Sam coming in.

A week later it was mine, and six weeks after that, I moved in. While Angela, my uncle, Jake and I moved in my furniture—what little I had, anyway—Sam went straight to work on all the odd jobs that needed taking care of. There was a lot that needed to be done, and I didn't expect him to finish it all in one day, but at the same time I wasn't too keen on him leaving, either. It's not that I planned on jumping Sam the moment we were alone; rather, I was more than a little worried about staying in a strange, unfamiliar house on my own.

If truth be told, I had mixed feelings about moving out. Uncle Billy's house had been my first ever real home; I'd grown just as attached to it as I had my uncle and cousin, and if I was being brutally honest, I wasn't terribly keen on living by my self—especially with a huge lake just beyond my back yard. I'd spent the majority of my childhood alone in Renee's house; it wasn't a memory I was keen on revisiting.

In any sense, it's not that I felt I could "jump" Sam even if I wanted to—which I kind of did. After that first night of nachos at Uncle Billy's things had progressed relatively slowly. I was at the restaurant for the majority of my time, and Sam travelled a lot for his work—sometimes driving more than two hours away. We didn't get a lot of time to see each other, but at the same time I got the impression Sam was being overly cautious around me. Perhaps it was all the "really heavy stuff" I was carrying around which had him spooked, but I was beginning to get the impression he was seeing me as too high maintenance.

Or maybe I was just really paranoid.

After all, he called me every day, and stopped by the restaurant most days during the week—he'd even given up several day's work to fix the plumbing in the kitchen and bathroom. We had dinner together as often as we could fit around our schedules, and each time I saw him the energy between us grew. At first when he kissed me it was just enough distraction I needed, but lately it was becoming more obvious that it wasn't enough. My body was craving more.

I was ready to take things further—not to mention to prove to my unshakable denial that I would feel _it_. That with Sam it could be just as fateful and passionate; that those feelings were not forever limited in me to only one person!

Angela, Uncle Billy and Jake left around five; Sam stayed on fixing the tiles in the downstairs bathroom until well after dark. After making him stop, I fed him dinner, and—much like my mother's daughter than I was willing to admit—several beers. He picked up on my signals, but at the same time he kept gauging my eyes—to ascertain whether the "heavy stuff" was going to get in the way, I could only conclude. For the longest moment he appeared to weigh it up—whether he should have sex with me—and just when I was beginning to feel rejected and hopeless, he heaved me off the ground, over his shoulder, and up the stairs to my new bedroom.

It was heated, sure, but he was so heavy over me that we were forced to break the momentum several times to reposition ourselves. He was gentle and attentive, but at the same time, he was so much bigger than me that it threatened to become clumsy.

And then he near impaled me, and I had to muffle my pain-filled reaction against his bared shoulder. I was sure in the heat of the moment it might have come across as pleasure, but I had no way of disguising the fact that my entire body flinched reflexively each time he ground into me.

When it was all said and done, I couldn't say I was satisfied, at all.

It's not that I had a lot to compare it with, but if first impressions were anything to go by, we just weren't a good fit—figuratively and literally. It wasn't what I had anticipated—a significant moment in my life that would finally and completely erase _him_ from my mind.

Sam made a joke of it, teasing me about how we had to find better positions in the future so he wouldn't squash me, and I laughed with him, when inside I just wanted to cry.

It was blatant this time—how differently I felt. Even when sex with Edward had been painful for me, I'd still felt it. I'd still felt it in titanic proportions: that incredible all-consuming connection and sense of affinity with him. As if, in those first few moments after, nothing would ever make more sense, and I would never feel more whole.

With Sam I'd only felt what I had the very first moment he'd touched me: that sense of comfort and safety.

Perhaps it was supposed to be different, I tried to rationalise. After all, I couldn't expect to have the same experiences with one person as I'd had with another. He was different, I was different and our situation was completely different. Perhaps under the circumstances what I'd felt was normal and healthy, and with this being my first real adult relationship, I'd developed unrealistic expectations.

But it was no use; I couldn't shake the feeling of pessimism, that there was something overwhelmingly missing with Sam, and so I did the only thing I could. I curled up amongst the warmth and security of his arms and fell asleep.

And I dreamed of Edward.

**...**

After that first night with Sam, I became more determined than ever to make it work with him. He was an incredibly caring, amazing person; I just had to stop seeing him through the shadow of Edward.

When my heart told me I was settling, my mind insisted I was just adjusting. When my denial told me I would never love him the same way, my anger stubbornly asserted that I would grow to love him.

I cared for him, after all, and I was genuinely attracted to him. Like any relationship we needed to work at it.

God knows I'd had to with Edward.

With Sam I was transitioning—properly transitioning. It was going to be hard, but I could do it.

Needless to say, I required _a lot _of distracting, and just as I'd thought, Sam's interpretation of distraction was working out. He dragged me on his runs, his sessions of weight training, and to drills with the boys on his little league team. They were State champions, after all.

I learnt terms I'd never heard of before; planking, mountain climbers and burpees, while I accomplished things I never thought possible; from push ups and pull ups by the hundreds, to lifting my body weight on the bench.

For the first couple of months I honestly thought this crazy man was going to kill me. Never before in my life had I ever felt so exhausted, or was in so much physical pain. It became a form of torture that I dreaded, but after a while, after I was able to keep up with him on our five mile run, and still go home for a "set of reps" with the weights—as I watched my body transform—something began to happen. With all the endorphins my body was releasing I had more energy, I was more focused, more positive, I was sleeping better, and I became rabidly, deliriously, charged up and switched on horny! I suddenly could not get enough of Sam—to the point that just looking at him, a sweaty pile of straining, bulging muscles, sent me literally over the edge. My body craved him on a daily basis, and I became strong enough that I could physically handle him.

I never experienced that sense of oneness with him, but I was so sexually satisfied that I found myself not missing it—not becoming so bothered by the lack of it. I had found my niche with Sam, and that's how it was with us, for two years. He referred to me as his "little fire cracker" and to me he was my _mountain man_, but it wasn't only physical; I loved him. I genuinely loved him. Sure we would never be no Edward and Bella, but Bella and Sam was a pretty bloody good consolation.

I was in such a good place mentally and physically that I even allowed Alice—very cautiously—back into my life. Since she lived in Olympia and was busy setting up an agricultural business of some kind with Jazz, I didn't see her a lot; plus, I was so busy at the restaurant, working out with Sam, and renovating my house, I barely got time to fit Jake and Uncle Billy into my life, let alone Alice. Occasionally, we were able to squeeze each other into our schedules, but it wasn't often, and I was still very careful not to allow myself to get too invested in her again.

Early into my relationship with Sam, Jazz was diagnosed with cancer, and months passed before I saw Alice again. If I was being completely honest, it was only out of compassion for her on Jazz's behalf that I was able to forgive her, but when we arranged to meet up one afternoon, she literally stared at me without shame, mouth agape, before she started exclaiming the weirdest remarks, like how "ripped" I was, and what a great ass I now had.

I only shook my head at her, wondering whether I'd always known what a bizarre person she was, or was it only now after I'd finally—somewhat—had become emotionally emancipated from her mental case brother, that I could see her with unbiased eyes.

My friendship with Angela, on the other hand, only went from strength to strength. She was always, unfailingly there for me, without question, at any time, and was happier than Charlie and Uncle Billy were combined over my relationship with Sam. Looking back, I realised how pivotal Angela had been in getting me through that first year, at least; how in the very real absence of Alice, she'd been the only friend I could rely on.

For the first time ever, I finally felt like I'd made it to a place in my life where I could be proud of myself, and to know that my father was as well. I'd made it through the cataclysm of Renee, Kel and Edward, and could finally breathe easy again. I'd learnt to never look back or over analyse, to ignore the delusions of my denial, and to be happy for everything I'd accomplished, and everyone I had in my life.

I was grateful for how it had turned out; I had no cause to complain.

Then that dreaded day happened that changed it all and sent me straight back to the beginning.

* * *

**A/N: bit of an evil cliffie, but all will be revealed next week, and Edward will be back in chapter 11.  
Hope you enjoyed. MWAH xoxo**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well, look at that, I said I was going to update Saturday, and I am. Okay, technically it's 2 am Sunday in Australia, but close enough, right? For me, anyway...  
Also, I decided to switch chapters and put Edward's up first. We haven't heard from him in awhile.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 10**

**Edward's POV**

It takes around three hours to drive from Seattle to Forks, plus another thirty minutes on the ferry, but right now I couldn't get there fast enough. If I broke every speed limit on the way over I might have been able to get there in three hours, only I just missed the 3:00pm ferry and was forced to wait another forty fucking minutes.

It was probably a good thing; I was so amped up I wasn't really thinking clearly. I needed to calm myself down, but how the hell I was going to manage that I had no idea. I could still barely comprehend the fact that I was about to see Bella again. My memories of her seemed like they were from another lifetime ago. Would this girl, who would forever own my heart, be able to relate to me anymore? Would we even have anything in common?

This thought made me almost laugh out loud as I stood in line to order coffee at the ferry terminal.

Since when had Bella and I ever had anything in common? We'd always been worlds apart in every sense of the word. She was quiet and cautious, while I was a pissed of little bastard who was always losing my shit over something. She never reacted well to my short temper; I knew it—I knew more than anyone that she'd had a fucked up childhood and had come from too much turmoil—but I was too much of a selfish prick to ever get it under control. I would have done anything for her, but I was never able to get on top of my own bullshit.

Sometimes I think my mother was right, and for six fucking years I'd lived with the knowledge that I'd pushed her away.

My mother I understood, constantly fucking telling me how I was "too out of control" and "too immature", but Alice?

As long as I'd live I would never understand why Alice did that to us, and it'd take me a lot fucking longer to forgive her.

Sure, Bella and I together were dysfunctional more often than we weren't, but we were only nineteen for fuck's sake—we were still teenagers, and we both had _a lot_ of baggage, but that was no fucking justification to tear us apart the way they had.

Six years later and I wasn't even close to being over her, then Alice fucking tells me Bella speaks my name in her sleep—just like that. If she ever really knew Bella, she'd know Bella doesn't talk in her sleep—or she never did when I was with her! So the fact that she suddenly was was pretty fucking significant.

The timing was pretty fucking convenient too, and I was beginning to think that Alice just didn't want some big blow-out at her wedding. If I'd have come face to face with Bella after all these years without knowing anything, shit would have hit the fan and the little rat knew it. Alice could have given a shit about what it did to me, or Bella, only about her _big fucking day_ with idiot Jazz.

Yeah, some friend that pissant turned out to be...

Then, as if the prick was honing in on me, my phone rang, with the asshole's number flashing back at me.

"Man—Alice just told me… Dude, I'm so sorry!" he burst before I could tell the prick to fuck off, completely stumping me in the process.

"You ... never knew…? I asked, skeptically.

"Dude, I swear I never knew," he insisted. "Alice told me she stayed in Australia, and only came back last year."

I opened my mouth to reply, but let it go, reefing my palm back through my hair. "Well, who _did_ fucking know?" I eventually demanded, grabbing my coffee and throwing the change at the cashier before heading back to my car.

"As far as I know, just Alice, Emmett and your folks," he explained, before quickly adding, "Dude, go easy on Alley. Your folks put her up to it. She didn't want to go along with it."

I only snorted sarcastically. "Yeah, Jazz, she didn't want to go along with it so much, she did anyway—and then let it go on for six fucking years!"

"Five years—the first six months Bella was actually in Australia," he corrected me, and I could tell from his tone, the asshole immediately regretted it.

"Are you actually going to fucking go there!?" I said lowly, through clenched fucking teeth.

"Man, come on. You know Alley loves you…" he said quietly, as some kind of vindication.

I only laughed, dryly. "I've gotta go. Tell _Alice_ that if I ever speak to her again she'll be damn fucking lucky." And with that, I hung up, throwing my phone through the open front window of my car, before getting in.

It was starting to fucking snow!

Not a minute later, my phone beeped, alerting me to a text message; I ignored it. I wasn't in the mood for my sister's idiot fiancé, and I sure as hell wasn't in the frame of mind if it was Alice herself.

Twenty-five minutes later, the ferry arrived, taking me across to Bainbridge Island, and half an hour later I had the three hour drive ahead of me. The ferry almost fucking killed me; I couldn't sit still doing nothing, and my thoughts were turning more and more against me. I was beginning to feel like I was chasing fucking shadows, and it was all too good to be true. This had been my deepest desire for so long, after all, but what if it was too late—if too much time had passed, and too much shit had happened?

What if she wasn't the same girl I'd once known? Okay, I doubt she was going to be that girl, anyway, but what if she'd changed so much she saw the positive in being apart, and didn't want me back in her life?

For six years, I'd refused to allow myself to wallow on the "what ifs"; it was too detrimental to me. "What if it was all a mistake and she'd never left me at all"; that one threatened to kill me, and it was the one that had fucking haunted me day and night. So, I'd stopped thinking about her—as much as I could, anyway. Most of the times she'd just enter my thoughts subconsciously, fucking crippling me in those moments before I pushed her from my mind, but now, I wasn't sure I even knew how to think about her in the right context—if that even made fucking sense. But then nothing had made sense the last several years.

So, for the drive to Forks, I stopped trying to comprehend who Bella was now; instead I let myself remember how she once was.

When people said shit like "I knew she was the right one from the very first moment I saw her" I used to scoff and think what dickheads they were. Love at first sight—what a load of crap. How could you know something so significant about someone you didn't even know?

I thought it was all bullshit, until it happened to me.

Yeah, I knew the very moment I'd met Bella in the halls at Forks High School. I'd spent the next six months trying to fight it and talk myself out of it, but I knew. At the time my interest in girls didn't extend past how quickly I could get into their pants. I had no desire for a girlfriend—I didn't want any complications and bullshit in my life. I mean, fuck knows it was hard enough just to blow them off after I'd fucked them—Jesus, I was such a douche-bag. But the moment I'd met Bella I knew she was not the sort of girl I could fuck with; she was the girl you got invested in, the girl you respected and brought home to meet your parents. Fuck knows I'd tried to bend her, but she didn't budge an inch, and she had a way of undermining everything I thought I'd ever known my entire fucking life.

She was the girl who looked down on me like she thought I was shit; the girl who remained unmoved by every attempt I'd made to charm her; the girl who rolled her eyes and scoffed at me; the girl who never blushed in my presence, or flirted with me. The girl who trusted no one—least of all me.

Yeah I loved her from day one, but at the same time, she'd known exactly who I was. There was never any fooling her.

We were almost a fucking cliché: Beautiful girl with the screwed up past meets high school douchey, man-whore. Yeah, almost, because she did not fall straight in my arms; she fought me every damn day, and the more she fought the more I repeatedly fucked it up, and pushed her further away.

She made me wake up in a sense, though, and I'll never forget it. It was after I'd almost fucking killed myself and was just home from hospital; she'd come to see me, looked me straight in the eye and told me what a waste of time I was—and she'd meant it. Never before in my life had I ever felt so fucking defeated and gutted, but it only made me want her more—to fight for her more.

I knew from that day on I had to change how I engaged with her, and for the two years that we were together I struggled with it. Every fucking day I questioned. Did I really want this? Was I really ready for such a serious relationship? Could I handle this girl whose past made her in turn constantly question me?

When I questioned, I got pissed off, and when I was pissed off, Bella would almost immediately react to me—usually by telling me to grow the fuck up. She needed the stability that came with calm, and what I brought her was chaos. We had so many fights; I lost count of the amount of times I'd made her cry—and what an abject fucking prick I always felt like afterward.

That's just how it was with us. I loved her more than anything else, but we constantly clashed, and I constantly wondered if she was right for me—if I was right for her.

For two years my mind repeatedly fought with my heart, and my heart always won out. I couldn't fucking breathe at just the very idea of not having her in my life, and I'd barely breathed without her. I'd barely functioned without her.

As counter-productive as our relationship was most of the time, there were times when we just _got it_ and each other. My very existence had been to make her smile. I loved more than anything the way she used to smile at me; as if she thought I was the biggest dickhead who'd ever walked, but she loved me anyway. With Bella that was always enough, because apart of her had always remained closed off and walled up. I got better and better at being able to distract her—to make that haunted look in her eyes dissolve and see who she really was underneath it.

We had sex all the time—literally. I had to teach her a lot in the beginning—considering how freaking innocent she'd been—but she caught on quickly, and she rarely held back from me. In fact, she constantly fucking surprised me.

We could spend hours alone together in silence while we both did our own thing, but she was always in sync with me. She always knew what mood I was in, if I was tired, hungry or had a headache, and she'd always had a way of pre-empting me. I loved that she was tuned in with me and she didn't insist we "talk" all the damn time. I never had to talk to her, anyway. She could read me like no other. I used to dread when she'd tell me I was "doing that face", but fuck me, how I'd missed it. I've lost count of the amount of times I'd been asked what I was thinking; Bella never had to ask me that. She always knew me, and she always had complete faith in me.

She was never needy or possessive. She was always okay with me doing stuff without her, and if she ever got jealous, she never let me know of it. Kate, on the other hand, used to track me to the point that she was fucking stalking me, and this was before we ever became a couple—as laughable as that term even was.

Me, on the other hand, I was always fucking jealous—not that I would have ever let her know about it. She would have never put up with that shit, and would have only made me feel like the infantile bastard I was. Come to think of it, I wasn't jealous as much as I was in a constant state of anxiety that I'd lose her. I was literally on edge all the fucking time, and when the little rat Alice was always accusing me of thinking the worst of Bella, she was right. I did. I was always waiting for her to figure out that I wasn't good enough for her. I wasn't—that's how fucking healthy we were.

I'd honest to God thought she'd had an abortion. I didn't question Jake for a moment, and when Bella had realized that about me it had hurt her—it had cut her right down to her very being; that I could have had so little opinion of her.

Let's face it, I wasn't good enough for her. I never was, and I wasn't sure I was even now.

When Bella had told me we needed a break, I knew she was right. I had to grow the fuck up, and she needed to work through her issues with her mother, once and for all. Combined it was breaking us; we could both see it happening. I didn't want us to break up, and she kept assuring me she didn't either. As much as I'd fucking hurt her, I thought we were still okay...

That last day, when I saw her off at the airport, I'd had absolutely no idea that she was about to end things with us. I can only remember being worried about her doing the trip on her own. She'd just gone through the miscarriage, had spent two weeks after thinking I was dead, and on top of it had caught the flu. She hadn't had the flu since Junior Prom—she wasn't often sick, and I had a guilty fucking feeling it was because of me and all the stress I'd put on her.

Thirty minutes before she was due to board, she turned to me and burst into tears.

"_Three months at the most—okay?" she whispered to me, her warm breath washing over my neck, before she reached up and wrapped her arms over my shoulders._

_I only held her trembling little body to me, but I had no words. With everything that I was I wanted to go with her, but I'd fucked things up too badly this time; we needed this break as much as she needed to put her mother behind her._

_She needed a break from me._

"_Edward, say something," she insisted, her voice breaking and turning hoarser. _

"_I'm so sorry, baby." It was all I _could_ say. It had been all I'd been telling her the last month, but it still didn't seem enough._

_She sighed, sounding exhausted all of a sudden, before pushing back to look at me and flashing me a small knowing smile. "You're still apologizing?"_

"_I'm a fucking bastard, Bella," I admitted, reaching up to push the heel of my palm into my brow, and closing my eyes momentarily._

_She sighed again, shortly, this time more or less to herself, her gaze lowering, before she started smoothing down my shirt. "Yeah, you are, but that's what I love about you most," she murmured, and I think she meant to tease me but her voice caught, completely contradicting her._

_I only released my breath, heavily, feeling fucking culpable, and barely able to meet her gaze. Her eyes reminded me too much of how they were when she'd first moved to Forks—as though she had two hundred years of sadness weighing down her heart. Only this time it wasn't because of her trailer trash mother; it was because of me._

"_Edward, I can't stand this…" she broke down again, leaning in to rest her forehead against my chest. "You need to get past it."_

_Cupping both my palms to the sides of her face I tilted her head to look up at me. "I want you to go and get yourself fixed, baby, and don't you worry about me."_

_Her face crumbled that little bit more, completely fucking splintering me. "I can't do that. You know I will."_

_I couldn't let her go, but at the same time I knew I needed to—I needed to miss her to get a fucking handle on myself. The fact that she'd forgiven me this time, was proof enough that she deserved me to work my shit out, as much as she needed to work out her own. _

_Curling my arm around her neck, I pulled her tightly against me, before pressing my lips against the top of her head. She only clung to me more, doing that thing she always did where she clutched my shirt in her tightly closed fists. _

"_You know, babe, I don't just want to shack up with you," I mumbled, lightly against her hair, feeling her immediately scoff softly, good-naturedly, against my chest._

"_You're a dag," came her muffled reply, in that wry kind of tone she often used for me. _

_I only held onto her for a moment, my fucking chest aching. It literally ached knowing I was about to let her go after possibly the worst thing I'd ever done to her. "I'm just going to pretend you're on an internship for the summer," I said, for my own fucking benefit._

"_It _is_ summer in Australia," she replied, laughing softly beneath her breath._

_Enclosing my arms tighter around her, I tucked her under my chin. "You know you're the love of my life," I said, after a moment._

"_I know, you big sap," she teased me again, taking a shaky breath this time. "I won't be able to do this if I know you're beating yourself up over what happened—promise me."_

"_I promise…" I murmured; though, I had no intention of it. I would suffer every day she was gone, and it was no more than I deserved._

"_You don't really mean that, do you?" She leaned back to gauge me._

_She knew me too well._

_I only smiled down at her, shaking my head. _

_She groaned, huffing out her breath, before she again pressed her face against my chest. "Edward… This is killing me."_

"_We'll be better when you come back—I promise you that," I vowed, but I had no fucking right to promise her anything._

_She only nodded before breaking into a shudder. She was crying again. _

_How many times would I make this girl cry?_

"_Bella..." I began but stopped myself, feeling my voice begin to choke. Taking a heavy breath, I started over. "If any time you need me, baby, I'll be right over—okay?"_

_She nodded, too hastily, her chest beginning to jerk. "Okay."_

"_Say Hi to Nummi and Rach—though, Rach did promise to rip my balls off if I ever hurt you."_

_She broke into this fractured laughter, nudging me gently, before wrapping her arms more securely around me. "I will."_

_I only held onto her, worried for a moment that when it came to letting her go I wouldn't be able to do it, and wondering how the hell I could live without her for the next twelve weeks. _

"_They're calling your flight, baby," I said after a few minutes, reluctantly releasing her, and holding her at arm's length._

_She wiped away her tears clumsily with the back of her sleeve before she looked up at me, nodding as she did, before taking an inevitable sounding breath._

"_Love you long time, cheeseball," she teased me gently, breaking into this completely fucked up heartbroken smile._

_I'm pretty sure my expression was mirroring hers; though, I was trying pretty fucking hard to keep it together. "Would you just go, you pain in the ass."_

_Her smile turned warm this time. "Sap."_

"_Cornba—." _

_And before the words were out of my mouth, she wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, pulled me down and kissed me. It was too fucking brief, before I pressed my lips to her cheek, and then her forehead, resting them against her for a moment, before fully releasing her._

"_Call me as soon as you arrive in Sydney, okay?" I said, placing her carry-on bag gently over her shoulder._

"_Okay," she whispered, nodding, and smiling up at me bravely._

"_Go…" I urged her, when she looked like she was stalling._

_She only shook her head, looking more and more miserable._

"_Baby…" I said, with a weary sigh._

"_I can't," she said barely a whisper, her voice catching again._

"_You _can_," I promised her._

_In the end I practically had to physically force her, and after she handed her ticket to the flight attendant, she went through the gate before turning back to me._

"_I love you," she mouthed to me, with tears pouring down her cheeks._

_It fucking broke me, and forcing the smile to my lips, my entire face burning behind it, I mouthed back, "Cheeseball."_

_Then she was gone, and I literally could not fucking breathe._

I'd gone over that moment in my mind repeatedly, every day since, trying to figure out where I'd got it wrong—how I'd missed the signals that she wasn't coming back. That she was hiding it from me. I thought I was in serious fucking denial, but I could never work it out, and now I knew fucking why.

She never rang me when she got to Sydney. She never rang, texted, emailed or messaged me again. This was the part I didn't get. Alice had told Bella I'd met some fucking girl and had moved to California, but some time would have had to have passed before Bella would have believed that. Something would have had to have happened for Bella to even believe that at all. I had never even looked at another girl from the moment Bella had entered my life. I didn't ask Alice the details on how she got Bella to believe it, and it was probably best I didn't. But it still didn't answer why Bella had cut me off as soon as she arrived.

I could only assume my evil fucking sister had something to do with that as well. Bella had never played games, but she'd never kept me in the dark over anything, either.

I was hoping she'd agree to talk to me tonight, but I really had no idea how receptive she was going to be to me, at all. She'd told Alice she didn't want to disrupt my life. Was that a way of her saying she didn't want me disrupting hers? Alice had never technically told me that Bella had confessed that she'd never gotten over me, as well. For all I knew it could all be just fucking speculation on Alice's part.

Was Bella going to freak out at me just rocking up out of nowhere after six years?

Fuck it, I was going to fight for her this time—this time I wasn't going to accept a damn thing unless I heard it from Bella herself.

I got to Port Angeles just before 6pm, stopping to fill up in gas and to get another coffee. Bella was only an hour away—for the last five and a half years she'd only been three hours and a ferry ride away. She'd been so close the entire time. It almost seemed unimaginable that the entire time I'd been twisting myself practically inside out, she was only a couple of hundred miles away.

A couple of times I'd almost come back to Forks—to help my parents pack up their house was one. At the time my mother had insisted I not come and to concentrate on my school work. I'd felt bad about not going, but I didn't need much convincing. I really didn't want to go back to Forks and be reminded of Bella, while my _awesome, loving mother_ didn't want me to come back and discover Bella was still there.

The second time was with Jazz when his father broke his back in a hiking accident. I was prepared to put my bullshit behind me to be there for him, when at the last minute he told me I didn't have to come—that Alice had explained how hard it would be for me. Of course, I thought Alice was just thinking about me, like the good little interfering, kind-hearted rat she was, but she like my mother, was only concerned about me running into Bella and finding out about their fucking lies.

It was genuinely fucking unfathomable. Were Bella and I so bad that they felt they had justification for what they did?

Sure, I'd taken off and scared everyone into thinking I was dead in a ditch somewhere. That had been all me; Bella had nothing to do with it. So, why fucking punish her for my actions?

Isn't that what I'd already done to her?

In hindsight I should have done more to hear it from Bella. Alice had refused to give me her contact details, but I'm sure I could have got Jake to help me out. He hated me, sure, but he would have done anything for Bella—even if it meant doing me a favor. Instead, I'd just accepted Alice's bullshit at face value, and I'd given up after only a few months. I was guessing Alice was hoping the fact that I was always thinking the worst of Bella would work to her advantage—it did. I was so quick to believe Bella had done everything Alice was claiming, without ever fucking questioning it—_really_ questioning it.

I hadn't fucking learned a thing the entire time I'd known her. It was no different from when I'd taken that pissant, Newton's, word that he and Bella had gone out together in junior year. Two fucking years later and I was still doing the same shit.

The very last thing she'd ever said to me was that she loved me, and only a few months later I took Alice's word as gospel that it was a fucking lie and she'd never really meant it.

I should have known better. I knew Bella; she never told me she loved me all that often, but when she did she meant it. She never bullshitted to me. I knew her enough to know that, and yet I'd accepted it all without question—and in turn I'd made it all too fucking easy for Alice.

I wouldn't have blamed Alice, in a sense, if she'd done it to protect Bella from me. That I could understand, but the fact that she'd lied to Bella as well—that she'd hurt _her_… I could never deal with Bella getting hurt, and even now it was no different; I was so fucking edgy it was beginning to get away from me. I didn't want Bella to see me after all these years and still think I was just as unhinged as I had always been, but how the hell could I look anything but?

Right at this moment I wasn't sure just how much this had all affected Bella, but if I found out she'd been even half as fucking shredded as I had been, I would never speak to a single member of my family again.

With possibly the worst coffee I'd ever tasted in my hand, and a full tank of gas, I got back in my car, my eyes catching the flashing light on my phone. Again, I thought about ignoring it, but in a fit of impatience I picked it up, flicking it open.

It was from Rose:

**Edward, I can only imagine how pissed off you are right now and I can't blame you. I just wanted you to know that I had no idea about any of it and I think your family are all assholes for doing it. Your brother will be in the doghouse for a very long time over this.  
Looking back it all makes complete sense. The last time I saw Bella I asked her what made her come back from Australia. At that time she'd been back a couple of years. She only looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about. I know now she really didn't, but boy was she pissed at Alice and me.**

I read and reread it several times, with my heart picking up in my chest, but at the same time becoming pissed off at how Alice had kept Bella in her life, but still kept her away from me.

I eventually replied:

**Thanks, Rose. I'm glad you understand. Your idiot brother actually tried to defend Alice.**

Rose replied a moment later, making me laugh out loud:

**Considering the amount of times my brother has been high over the last couple of years, I think it's pretty safe to say he's fried half his brain cells. Pay no attention to him. **

She definitely had a point.

With the grin edging across my face, I put my car into gear, and set out on the Olympic Highway for the last fifty miles back to Forks. Whatever Bella was feeling over all this, I was about to find out.

* * *

**A/N: Liked? Disliked? Feel free to tell me I suck or not, and thanks for reading.**  
**MWAH xoxo**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and faves. I'm in the triple figures now. WOOHOO!  
Okay, onto the next chapter; it's a longey, but it's all there. Bella will finally learn the truth.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 11.**

**Bella's POV.**

"Table two is up, Ang," I called out, slamming my palm down on the bell at the same time.

Angela came rushing into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes, before placing the next several orders on the stainless steel range-hood above me with a magnet.

"Three more orders, B," she said in a rush before picking up the two plates of steak and disappearing back into the restaurant.

It was Saturday night, the busiest night of the week, and Sue, and two of my regular waitresses, were out with the flu. We were swamped; I had literally not stopped for four hours straight.

Beside me on the counter, my phone rang.

Sam.

While I attempted to put it on speaker phone with my nose—my hands were covered in bread crumbs—Jake came into the kitchen offloading even more dirty dishes. He was my emergency contact at the restaurant, and like the sweetheart he was, he always made it in to help out. "Another order, Bells, and some kid just puked—what the hell are you doing?"

"It's Sam," I motioned to my still buzzing phone. "Can you tell him I'm going to have to cancel dinner—and what? Who puked?" I exclaimed, repulsed at the very idea.

"Stanley's—or Crowley's—or whatever." He grinned to himself, before picking up my IPhone and answering it.

"Son of a bitch!" I burst. "I swear she brings that kid in here just for that bloody reason!"

Jessica Crowley—nee—Stanley's two year old child, was a regular at the restaurant, and very conveniently had a chronic case of reflux. "Puking Payten", as she was known to the locals.

Grumbling obscenities just barely beneath my breath, I wiped my hands with the dish cloth, before yanking open the supply closet to retrieve the bucket and mop. "Jake…?" I pleaded with him, holding it out.

He was still speaking to Sam, before he placed the phone against his chest, holding up his other hand in protest. "Oh, hell, no. I draw the line at cleaning up puke—and Sam wants to know if you're still going to work out tonight."

"I seriously doubt it," I mumbled, dragging the bucket and mop past him out into the restaurant.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," Jessica apologised, her sincerity as fake as her hair colour, as she propped her vomit covered child on her hip, "but you know how it is with kids—oh, sorry, you don't."

"Not yet—praise the Lord," I muttered sarcastically, as I cleaned away the vile smelling mess, making a mental note to create a designated seating area for the Crowleys—way out in back—complete with vomit bags.

When I returned to the kitchen, Jake was still chatting with Sam.

Past all patience, I snatched the phone away from his ear, shoving the bucket and mop at him. "Take care of this will you, Jake—hey, Sammy," I greeted Sam, my tone automatically brightening.

"Hey, Babadook," he replied, his voice lowering with affection; I only grinned wryly to myself. He'd been calling me _Babadook_ ever since we'd watched the weird Australian movie of the same name. "Do you need some help down there?"

"No, it's fine. It should start to settle down soon," I relayed, not feeling as optimistic as I sounded.

"All right, schmoopie"—again, a name he'd given me after we'd watched the last Seinfeld marathon—"I'll catch you later."

"Okay, you big dork," I said chuckling gently, before kissing the receiver of my phone and hanging up."

Jake came back into the kitchen just then carrying the empty bucket and looking suddenly green. "I don't feel so great, Bells."

I only scoffed to myself knowingly, before pouring a glass of water and handing it to him. "You wuss!" I teased him.

He sat down in the chair behind me, looking like he was breaking into a sweat. "Can you distract me, Bells—put the T.V on for a sec?"

He looked and sounded genuinely pitiful, and so smirking to myself, I turned back to the stove, picking up the remote control and switching on the small television that sat at the end of the counter.

"Seattle News—that boring enough to distract you?" I joked, turning back to the half crumbed chicken breasts that I'd left on the counter.

"Thanks, Bells," he mumbled miserably from behind me.

"Guys have such weak stomachs—Sam is exactly the same. He faints at the sight of blood. Seriously," I said, chuckling to myself as I got back to preparing table seven's order of Chicken Parmigiana.

Jake only made a pathetic grunting sound, and laughing further beneath my breath, I shook my head. "You big sook…"

"_Paramedic Edward Cullen—." _

I reacted before I could even process what I'd just heard—before I could question it—and as my heart immediately froze, my head snapped up and over to the television.

It was Edward. Edward now a man—as unfathomable as it was, and reminding me once again that he existed in this world beside me. That he'd been real despite every ill-conceived effort I'd made to convince myself to the contrary; that he'd once been a significant presence in my life.

I watched, unable to look away, as I tried to identify the eighteen year old boy I once knew in the features of this twenty-four year old man, while my heart pounded so hard I was beginning to feel unsteady on my feet.

He was standing in a hospital room, wearing a navy blue paramedic's uniform, holding a little bundle in his arms, as he spoke—rather humbly, and looking somewhat embarrassed—about how he'd delivered this baby in the back of his ambulance.

His voice was deeper, it had the resonance of an adult now, but I knew it inherently—I'd heard it in my dreams every night, after all. Just the sound of it heightened my senses, eliciting a surge of emotion in me as heat rushed to flood the surface of my skin.

The baby's name was Isabella, he explained, his voice seeming to soften as he spoke it.

"Bells ... you okay?" Jake's apprehensive sounding voice broke partially through my transfixed state of mind.

I blinked, faltering for a moment, but I didn't turn away—I couldn't. I only continued to absorb every detail of him, as my heart continued to fill my veins with an energy so intense, I was barely able to contain it.

Then, as suddenly as he was before me, he was gone, as the camera switched back to the studio anchor. I was left quite literally reeling. For a moment I couldn't catch my breath, my clammy hands slipping against the counter, as I attempted to steady myself.

I was coming apart, but at the same time I was so overloaded by adrenalin that I suddenly felt more conscious—more alive—than I had in a very long time. It was as if my body was functioning on a higher sphere. My emotions—my state of awareness, was suddenly so amplified, it was inundating me.

"B—sweetie, are you okay?" It was Angela this time, her tone filled with uneasiness as she physically moved me to face her.

"I-I-I I'm fine," I stammered, shaking my head a little too rapidly at the same time, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

"Come on, we'll sit down for a moment," she said gently, wrapping her arm around my waist and walking me out of the kitchen.

My legs cooperated mechanically, on auto pilot, but my mind continued to race.

I felt completely alive—there was no other way to explain it—but at the same time I understood the consequences behind it.

She took me outside, where the cool summer night air snapped some sense of coherency back into me, at least.

"Jake said Edward came on the TV..." she began delicately, as though just speaking it out loud might make matters worse.

"It … it was just a shock, that's all," I mumbled, feeling ridiculous now, even as my body continued to course with a charge so tangible the trembling in my hands was quickly becoming full-bodied.

"Oh, babe..." Angela sighed, in complete understanding, despite my attempts to downplay it.

"Ang ... I can't do this—don't let me do this," I pleaded with her, feeling suddenly close to tears.

Not now—not when I was so content with my life. Not when I'd made peace with everything.

"B ... you need to feel this. It's a normal part of the process," she assured me, "Remember, you never had any closure."

I only shook my head, not feeling reassured by her words, but unable to properly articulate the contradicting avalanche of emotion I was experiencing.

"I've decided that if I ever see Edward again, I'm going to go all Charlotte from Sex and the City. '_I curse the day you were born'_," she joked; though, her voice remained tender and sympathetic.

And despite myself, despite the fact that I was a palpitating mess, I laughed.

"Come on, we better get back to it," I mumbled after a moment, drawing in my breath and releasing it deeply, in complete resignation.

**...**

I got through the rest of the night by going through the motions. I barely recalled what happened after, or the fact that Jake and Angela kept a constant vigil over me. My thoughts were elsewhere—on the fact that I couldn't stop my hands from shaking, or my heart from rocking through me—or my mind from replaying the newsreel, over and over again.

His smile, his eyes—that jawline…

By the end of the night, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Despite still feeling like I was high, while my skin literally tingled, I felt so engulfed my chest ached, and I had an overwhelming urge to cry.

Every particle of me had exploded into life after seeing Edward, but it was no consolation to reality; the reality my denial still—after four and a half years—refused to accept. That Edward had discarded me as if I had never meant anything to him. But despite this, despite the fact that I had a fantastic man in my life now, and Edward and I had been apart for twice as long as we'd ever been together, I still couldn't let him go. At least, I couldn't let go of who he once was.

And how he'd made me feel.

A sensation I hadn't felt since … until tonight.

It wasn't a completely unfamiliar feeling for me. After all, I worked out so much I was constantly overloaded with mood-boosting neurotransmitters, and Sam and I had a pretty adventurous love life. But I knew deep down, as much as I wanted to ignore it, there had never been even half as much emotional charge as I'd felt with Edward. In fact, what I'd felt tonight, by just seeing an image of him alone, had evoked a more passionate reaction in me than the best sex I'd ever had with Sam.

It was cruel, and life was unfair.

Well, let's face it, if that wasn't the story of my life, I didn't know what was...

**...**

"Okay, B..." Angela said, throwing her purse over her shoulder, before wrapping her arm around me and drawing me closer to her. "Stay strong, and call me if you need me."

"I will," I promised her, throwing in a smile for good measure; though, it wasn't something I felt.

Grinning back, she quickly kissed my cheek, before heading toward the police cruiser that Ben was waiting in for her.

After locking up, I headed toward my car, passing Jake, who was rummaging around in his boot, as I did. "'Night, Jake, and thanks again for helping out tonight."

"Goodnight, Bells," he replied, popping his head up for a moment, and flashing me an affectionate grin, before he appeared to hesitate. "Bells…?"

I paused. "Yeah?"

"Come here," he said, motioning me over to him simultaneously.

I sighed. "Jake, can this wait? I'm exhausted."

"Bells…" his tone dropped in emphasis, becoming serious, and I knew instantly what he wanted to talk about.

"Jake..." I complained, not sounding terribly convincing, as I made my way over to him regardless.

"Bella," he began, when he paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. "Bells, when I see Nessie—which is pretty much every other day—you know what I think?"

I only shook my head; though, I had a fair idea.

"I think, 'thank God I'm now with Leah', but tonight when you saw Cullen, that was the last thing you were thinking," he stated, matter-of-factly, his tone tactful but somber.

"It wasn't like that, Jake—at all," I insisted, sounding defensive more than anything in my weariness.

"Just don't do anything you'll regret, Bells—Sam is an awesome guy, and he is so good for you."

"Jake," I repeated, more aggravated this time, as I rubbed at my brow in growing frustration, "what exactly do you think I'm going to do?"

He shrugged a shoulder, looking somewhat sheepish, but remaining adamant.

"I don't see him every other day, like you do with Nessie," I explained, trying not to be short with him, but wanting him to believe me. "It just threw me off a bit—that's all."

"Bells…" he began sounding completely unconvinced, "who are you trying to convince? Me or you?"

I released my breath, heavily, feeling suddenly defeated, and knowing he was right. "Jake ... can you just let it go?"

"I know how much he hurt you, Bells." His tone softened; though, he remained deadly serious. "Me and Dad, we watched you fall apart for two years, and now you have Sam... Please don't throw it away."

"I don't intend to," I replied, lowering my voice more or less to myself, resolutely.

"Okay, but just so you know, if I ever cross paths with him, I'm going to beat the crap out of him," he added, not so subtly; though, what for, I had no idea.

Did he think Edward and I would be somehow getting back together? If Edward ever came crawling back to me on his hands and knees I wouldn't take him back. I might have missed him with every breath I took, but that was the person he once was, not the coward who broke up with me through his sister. I might have been completely pathetic, that wasn't to say I'd ever be stupid enough to let him destroy me again.

"Okay, thanks, Jake," I mumbled, before heading to my car again.

That night, that moment when I saw Edward again, was the turning point, and I didn't realise how quickly my life would all fall apart afterward. How much it would undermine everything I had worked for, and how much I would lose.

Sam picked it up almost immediately, and as much as I fought every day to prevent it from affecting my relationship with him, it was a battle I quickly realised I was losing. I continued to work out with him every day, letting him completely break me, and pushing myself to the edge of exhaustion, and after when we had sex I threw myself into it body and soul. But it was futile; he wasn't able to distract me anymore, and he soon realised it as well.

At first he would just gaze at me, a troubled look encroaching on his features, until he began looking into my eyes again, and I knew what he was seeing.

It was only six weeks later, when he drove to my house one afternoon after work, and had _that_ conversation with me.

I immediately burst into tears, grabbing the material of his t-shirt in a blind panic; feeling like an abyss was opening up beneath me.

"Bella," he began, his voice so full of resolve it was almost breaking, "you are an amazing, beautiful girl, but I'm not enough for you anymore. I can't make that sadness in your eyes go away."

"Sam, please," I pleaded with him, "You make me so happy."

Cupping the sides of my face, he tilted my head to look at him. "But I don't, honey. Something happened to you—and I don't know what, but you've gone back to that girl I first met. That girl who was carrying so much pain."

I only shook my head, closing my eyes as tears continued to fall from beneath my lashes, feeling completely helpless in the consequences of my own perverse, treasonous desires.

When Sam left that day, he took a piece of me with him, along with the girl who had everything together; the girl my father—my family—was proud of. The girl I was proud of being.

I only stood in my living room, as a hollowness opened up in my heart before a horrible fear anchored itself there. A fear that Edward had ruined every potential relationship before I would get the chance to experience them; that I would forever be alone.

I let the tears consume me that night, realising what a blessing they were. I'd never been able to shed a single tear over Edward. I'd cried a lot for myself, but never for him, and the ache in my heart had been a thousand times more painful; a thousand times more detrimental.

When I didn't turn up to work in the morning, Angela came to me, and when I opened the door to her, she knew immediately.

"Oh, Bella..." she whispered, sounding so hurt on my behalf that her own voice caught in the back of her throat.

I only shook my head as fresh tears slipped down my cheeks. "I've lost him…" I admitted; though, Angela didn't need for me to say it.

"Come on, babe. This calls for Tim Tams and Caramello Koalas…" she said, teasing me gently, before wrapping her arm over my shoulders and leading me back inside.

"I'm going to die alone with nothing but a dozen cats and a vibrator," I sobbed pitifully, a tub of ice-cream, and a block of Cadbury's later.

Thanks to Nummi and Rach, I kept my pantry pretty well stocked with Australian chocolates. I just hadn't been able to take to Hershey's.

"Babe ... do you even own a vibrator…?" Angela asked tenderly, despite the fact that she was obviously trying not to laugh.

"No … but I might as well buy one, now!"

"B, Sam was really good for you," Ang began tactfully, after a moment, "but to me you were like best buddies who had sex. I felt like you wanted it more than you really felt it, and you talked yourself into believing it was the best you were ever going to feel with someone."

I only glanced at her for a moment, before exhaling deeply, and shaking my head to myself in defeat. "I don't know…" I finally admitted.

"You have to find yourself before you can find anyone else, B," she added, and I knew she was right, but I'd just lost all optimism and was feeling little more than hopelessness.

"I just don't think I'm ever going to feel it again," I confessed, more or less to myself.

"He was your first love, B—," Angela began before I interrupted her, becoming frustrated.

"No—it's not just that," I vehemently insisted, coming close to tears again. "It's so much more, Ang. I'm never going to feel that feeling of..." I paused, struggling to find the right word, and giving up, I hastily added, "Which is completely ridiculous, because do you remember how much Edward and I used to fight?"

"Well…" she replied, sounding somewhat sceptical, "I remember you shoving him in the cafeteria once."

Looking at her for a moment, unsure whether she was serious or just sparing my feelings, I scoffed. "We used to fight—all the time."

"Bella," she started, her brow beginning to knot the longer she gazed at me, "are you sure you didn't let what happened skewer your memories of the two of you?"

"W-what do you mean?" I stammered.

"I mean, you used to argue, sure, but you were more like a couple of chooks bickering"—she suddenly smiled to herself, bringing the same reaction immediately out in me—"The way I remember the two of you is … okay, do you remember when Jazz and Alice used to grope each other all the time for all the world to see?"

"Yeah," I answered, rolling my eyes,

"Well … you and Edward were never like that, because you used to project that kind of passion by just looking at each other…" She suddenly looked pained, almost shrinking away from me, knowing exactly how I was going to receive it.

"For the love of god, Ang!" I exclaimed, feeling my chest clench as those words impacted on me. "This is really not helping!"

"Okay, hear me out," she said, holding up her hand. "I just think that it was too much too soon. I mean, just say normal high school relationships coast on a three out of ten. You and Edward were a twelve! You could almost feel the intensity coming off the two of you. I think it scared Edward—as much as he loved you it scared him so much that he couldn't handle it. And he brought out the same amount of intense emotion in you, and that's why you are struggling to get past him."

I only dropped my head into my palms, massaging my brow with my fingertips. Hearing Edward and I being talked about in this context was harder than I'd anticipated, because it brought it all back to the surface again; everything we'd been, and everything I'd lost.

"You sound like his mother," I muttered finally from behind my hands.

"That's all I've got," she conceded, before I felt her arm wrap around me again.

**...**

Without Sam in my life I had more time on my hands than I was prepared for, and just like when I was with him, I needed the distraction—I needed to keep myself busy. I made up my mind to continue working out, but instead of being spotted on the weight bench by Sam and running through the streets of Forks and La Push, I bought myself a treadmill and a multi-station home gym. When I wasn't at the restaurant, I worked out; I worked out until sweat poured down my body in rivers, until I was literally gasping for breath; and until I was so exhausted I fell immediately asleep. It helped to prevent me from missing Sam, and I most definitely didn't think about Edward.

Until I dreamed...

I told myself Sam was a positive influence in my life, and he'd helped me to grow, but he wasn't my Mr Right. Angela was right, I loved him like a mate—a mate I had great sex with, but we weren't suited for each other.

Even still, I felt like I'd lost everything I'd gained and more. Jake was angry at me, blaming me for my breakup with Sam, Uncle Billy quite clearly worried about me, and my father went back to looking at me with the same wearied worry lines creasing his forehead.

"If you're going to live out here alone, at least get yourself a guard dog," he'd suggested, the first time he visited after my breakup with Sam.

So I did. One afternoon on my way home from work, I spotted a sign advertising Golden Retriever puppies for sale, and without thinking about it, I pulled over and bought the first one that ran over to me. An eight week old male, that was so adorable I was quite happy to fall in love with him instead.

For the next several weeks, I was forced to allocate more time into my schedule for the newest boy in my life. I had no idea how much work a puppy would be. I had to walk him, bath him, teach him obedience as well as house train him, but he was the best company I could have asked for.

There's a reason dogs are referred to as man's best friend; he could read my moods instinctively, and whenever I was down, all he had to do was lay his head in my lap or lick my face and I immediately cheered up.

For the first month I was lost for a name for him, so I just called him "buddy" until I could come up with something—but then he started responding to it. A week later I purchased a puppy licence, registering him as "Buddy Swan", four month old Golden Retriever.

While I was at the restaurant, I took him around to Uncle Billy's, who fell so in love with him, he would come out to the car when I pulled up, greeting him like he was his grandchild. Buddy also helped bridge back together my relationship with Jake. Sam had told Jake not to blame me for what had happened, but Jake was literally devastated when we broke up. For weeks after, he wouldn't even look at me. It broke my heart, but after I got Buddy, Jake started reaching out to me again, offering to walk him, or look after him when Uncle Billy was working day shift, and soon after he started working at the restaurant again.

Buddy, was my lifeline, and the best excuse ever to get out of unwanted attention. I was asked out seven times after Sam and I broke up. I suspected Angela was behind the bulk of it, but "I'm sorry I have a puppy and he takes up too much of my spare time at the moment" became my single favourite sentence in the world.

I didn't date. I wasn't ready, nor was I interested. I planned on working on myself—exactly as Angela had suggested, and I was happy to use my dog against any hurdles that threatened to get in the way.

Unfortunately Buddy didn't work to get out of Alice's invitations to her and Jazz's ranch in Olympia, since she invited him as well.

After Sam and I broke up I took a short two week vacation in Australia with Nummi and Rach, and when I came home, Alice started to make more of a conscious effort to come to Forks to spend time with me. It was odd, considering she lived one hundred and fifty miles away, and our relationship had never really recovered after Edward and I broke up, but once a month Alice either stayed with me, or with the Hales. She started to become a regular fixture in my life again—even wrangling an invite to Angela and Ben's wedding the following spring.

Little by little I let my guard down with her, until I started enjoying her company again—even looking forward to her visits. I missed her energy, and her eternal optimism. Naturally, all conversation of Edward was always vetoed, as a rule of thumb, but occasionally she did slip up. It became a moment of awkwardness that we'd both laugh over before putting it behind us, but each time she spoke his name, it chipped away at me—at the person I had become since him—since Sam.

Still, it was one thing for Alice to come to my house, but another for me to go to hers. Olympia was only thirty miles to Tacoma, which was only forty miles to Seattle—it was too close.

It took a while but she eventually talked me into it, and the first time she was successful was for her—and Edward's—twenty-fifth birthday. Initially, I wouldn't even consider it—naturally not wanting to risk running into Edward—but she repeatedly assured me she was just having something small with her and Jazz. No Edward, she promised me—not even Rose or Emmett, and eventually I relented.

Angela, agreed to look after the restaurant for a couple of days—despite being in the early stages of pregnancy and suffering from morning sickness—and so reluctantly, I packed up me and Buddy, and set out for the close to three hour drive down to Olympia.

**...**

"Um, Alice … aren't these Marijuana plants?" I asked dubiously, glancing sideways at her, after she'd decided to show me her and Jazz's "business" venture.

"Cannabis," she corrected me, grinning to herself as though she found my reaction amusing.

"But won't you get … raided?' I asked, lowering my voice, aghast.

This time she openly laughed. "Bells, it's completely legal in Washington—besides, these are for medicinal use. These plants here are 100% CBD, no THC in them at all. You could smoke them all day long and never get high."

I only stared at her, blankly, lost for words; as usual having no idea what she was talking about.

"Jazz and I have created this awesome tea. Would you like to try it?" she asked after a moment of chuckling at my reaction. "It gives you such a good chill."

"Erm … do I want to be drugged…?" I asked sceptically.

"Good grief, Bella—not all Cannabis plants have a psychoactive ingredient in them. These plants right here, we grow for kids with Epilepsy," she explained, rolling her eyes at me this time.

I had to admit, Alice's tea actually did give me a really good "chill". After reassuring me a few hundred times that it wouldn't make me high, I drank it. It tasted rather vile, but afterward I felt incredibly mellow—as I suspected was her motive for giving it to me.

At around 7pm Jazz arrived home—he'd been in Seattle for something to do with their banking. It'd been five years since I'd last seen him, and he looked almost exactly the same—other than a slight maturity to his face.

"Bella—get over here," he greeted me enthusiastically.

"Hi, Jazz," I replied warmly, allowing him to pull me into his arms, before almost immediately drawing me back.

"You are so buff, girl—what have you been doing?"

"Erm…" I mumbled, immediately embarrassed, before Alice Answered on my behalf.

"She was dating Sam Uley for two years, babe—take a wild guess."

"Ahhh," Jazz replied in understanding, before with one arm around my shoulders and the other around Alice's we walked back inside for dinner.

It was then that he and Alice propositioned me—obviously taking advantage of my "chilled" and "mellowed" post Cannabis tea state.

"Bells … we—I was wondering, would you like to be my bridesmaid?" she asked hastily in the end, almost appearing to shy away from me.

"Uh…" I faltered, quickly making calculations in my head. Edward would be definitely going to this event—and would more than likely be a part of the bridal party.

Something Alice then rather delicately validated, "Edward is Jazz's best man, so he will be there…"

"I…" I continued to stammer, my heart beginning to pound at the very idea of it, when I suddenly became annoyed at myself. I could manage to face Edward. In fact, I'd go with my head held high.

"Don't worry, Bells—we're going to put him as far away from you as possible, and Jazz will tell him not to say a word to you," Alice Continued to reassure me, but only succeeded in making me feel as pathetic as I was.

"Oh, I'll keep him away from you," Jazz chimed in.

"Alice—don't be ridiculous!" I replied a little too sharply. "I'm not an infant. I can handle seeing him—and as if I would cause a scene at your wedding."

"So … is that a … yes?" she asked, a smile growing across her face in anticipation.

"Sure—yes," I conceded, with a small internal sigh.

"Great!" she squealed. "And you can bring someone along if you like."

"What date is it?" I asked, lowering my head and rubbing my brow arduously, not even bothering to hide my obvious body language from the two of them.

"Valentine's Day," she answered, and I looked up just in time to see her and Jazz glance at each other pointedly.

"How romantic," was my reply, and it was near impossible to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"I know," Alice said in agreement, not fooled by my response. "And to be honest it wasn't our choice to have it in winter, but the venue, I really wanted for the reception—Thornewood Castle—was booked for two years, but then they called me with a cancellation. I had to take it"—I only nodded, in understanding as Alice continued to gush—"Plus it's so beautiful in the snow. I wanted to have the wedding in the English garden, but inside the castle is _gorgeous_… Wait until you see it, Bella!"

"It sounds lovely," I acknowledged as politely as I could manage, but I just couldn't share her enthusiasm. It's not that I hated weddings—Angela's had been beautiful—but the thought of Alice's was making me feel hostile—and slightly irrational. On top of this, I was suddenly exhausted. It might have been the fact that my heart was currently in overdrive, or because of the long drive I'd done earlier that day, or perhaps because Alice had drugged me with her weird herbal tea. Whatever it was, I was ready to drop.

"Okay, I might crash," I spoke up, when she and Jazz started getting touchy-feely in front of me. Five years later and they still had absolutely no decorum when it came to their affections in front of people.

"Come on, I'll take you," Alice offered, jumping up from the dining table and linking her arm through mine.

"Night, Jazz," I just managed to get out over my shoulder, before Alice practically skipped me into the hallway.

"Oh, wait—I should bring Buddy in," I said, becoming distracted, as I turned in the direction of the kitchen and back door again.

"It's cool. Jazz will bring him in when we go to bed," Alice reassured me, and as I turned back I bumped into a hallstand, almost knocking over a collection of framed photos.

As my hands quickly sprang out to steady them, my eyes immediately focused on one in particular, and without realising what I was doing I picked it up to inspect it closer.

It was Edward—a recent photo of him by the looks of it—standing with his arms crossed, while a tall, blonde woman clung to his shoulder. And while he stared straight ahead, a smirk half lit up across his face, she smiled directly up at him. It wasn't an intimate photo, and if I had to guess, her feelings were completely unrequited on Edward's part, but then Alice completely contradicted me.

"That's Edward ... and his fiancé, Kate," she explained, her voice softening and sounding apprehensive.

And right at that moment a piece of me died—which immediately rebounded as anger and bitterness.

"Let me guess—she works at Hooters?" I turned to Alice, my eyebrows raised high.

"Erm…" she squirmed, looking more and more uncomfortable, "she's an … exotic dancer."

I only scoffed, dryly—sarcastically. "Well, that makes sense. Edward was only ever good at being physical."

Alice didn't reply, and the silence soon became awkward. When I faced her she only smiled at me stiffly, immediately making me feel ashamed of myself.

Releasing my breath, I only lowered my head, my fingertips pressing into my forehead, wishing I could just erase this moment. "Sorry..." I mumbled, without meeting her gaze.

"It's fine, Bella," Alice replied, quietly, before snaking her arm around my waist.

Only, when I eventually looked up and met her gaze she looked ... troubled. Almost guilty...

I couldn't fall asleep for hours after. I only lay in the ridiculously uncomfortable futon bed feeling as equally ridiculous. I eventually succumbed to exhaustion in the early hours of the morning, but not before I heard Jazz and Alice talking about me, speculating together over why I still hadn't got over him.

I had no answers, either...

**...**

The following day was Alice's birthday. I was awoken to Edward's voice invading my dreams, making me bolt upright in bed by the vividness of it, only to quickly realise it _was_ his voice—over the telephone answering machine.

Something Jazz later validated when he played it back over breakfast.

"Happy birthday, you little rat. Have a great day. I'll call you later." His voice repeated, in that familiar deep, husky tone.

Of course, I instinctively froze; almost choking on the coffee Alice had just made me, and was then forced to sit through another round of awkward silence as Jazz and Alice shared several not-so-discreet glances at my expense.

With the excuse to walk Buddy, I left soon after to let them further discuss me in private, and wishing I could just pack myself, and my dog, up and go home.

No such luck. That night Alice and Jazz dragged me to the Emblem nightclub in Tacoma. Jazz had booked a VIP table for Alice's birthday on the mezzanine above the dance floor. I was happy to watch as Jazz and Alice quickly joined in, practically molesting each other as they danced amidst the revellers. It was loud, and the lights were dizzying; though, the video displays were somewhat distracting, but overall, it wasn't my thing.

That wasn't to say I didn't drink. Jazz made more trips to the bar than I could recall, and after a while I lost track of how many I'd consumed.

After that things got pretty hazy, and the next morning I awoke with my face plastered to the futon mattress, with a stinging sensation at the back of my neck, the mother of all headaches—something I was getting pretty familiar with—and that ungodly taste in my mouth.

I dragged myself to the kitchen sometime around ten in the morning to a similarly pasty looking—but no less chirpy—Alice.

"Bells, you look about as good as I feel," she chuckled, her tone blessedly lowered.

"Is there coffee?" was all I managed before sitting down at the breakfast table and laying my head in my folded arms with a muffled moan.

A mug was suddenly placed in front of me, before Jazz sat down opposite me, grinning to himself. "Great night, girls," he commented.

"Yeah..." I mumbled, without managing a shred of humour, before pulling the coffee closer to me and inhaling it in. I sipped the steaming liquid carefully, quickly realising it was that disgusting cannabis tea, and almost gagging. "Oh, God, Jazz. Are you trying to make me sick?" I croaked out, barely managing to raise my voice.

"In ten minutes, Bella, you'll feel ninety-five percent better," he assured me, continuing to grin to himself as he read the morning paper, while simultaneously feeling up Alice.

I really had to get the hell out of there.

He was right, of course. Whatever the hell was in that stuff, my headache and nausea had already begun to fade before I'd even finished.

After, I allowed Alice to make me breakfast, instantly cheered up by my improved health.

"Have I been bitten by something?" I asked, rubbing again at the nape of my neck.

"No, silly," Alice laughed. "That's your tattoo—we all got one." And with that, she dragged her t-shirt down exposing the top of her left breast where "Lovers Forever" was obviously newly tattooed into her skin, still looking red-rimmed and tender.

And Jazz, parting his robe, showed off his version of it, while a feeling similar to dread enveloped me.

"Please tell me I don't have that tattooed at the back of my neck too?"

Alice giggled, rubbing her entire breast as she did. "Of course you don't. What did you choose again?"

I only stared at her, confounded.

"An angel wing," Jazz answered on my behalf.

My vacant expression switched to him, while this time feeling my heart stall. I knew the significance of an angel wing, and naturally, if I was drunk, I would have disclosed it to Jazz and Alice. Though, I had a sinking feeling they already knew.

"Here, I think I took a photo of it last night," Alice piped up, before getting out of her seat to retrieve her phone.

A moment later the image of it was thrust an inch from my face, while I contemplated the urge to groan out loud. A blue angel wing—quite evidently tattooed into the back of my neck—stared back at me.

I left not long after, despite my blood alcohol level more than likely being over the limit, making a point to never go back to Alice's house again. I had initially decided to stay until the afternoon, but I got Angela to call in a fake disaster at the restaurant. I could handle Alice at my house, I even enjoyed her company, but I definitely did not feel comfortable—or sane—being at hers. Over all, it had given me a nightmarish, trippy ambience—of mind altering tea, images of Edward, his voice projecting into my dreams, and the privy of Alice and Jazz's love under the influence of "THC".

Even Buddy appeared somewhat disturbed. I had never seen him so eager to get in the car before in my life, scrambling in and knocking everything out of the way, with his tail between his legs.

I didn't feel even close to my old self again until I was a half hour from Forks, and even then, I remained on edge for weeks after.

Alice continued to visit—with me being a bridesmaid in her wedding, I could no longer avoid her. Even still, I wracked my brain for months after with a good enough excuse—that wouldn't give away the fact that I just wanted to avoid Edward—to get out of it.

I wasn't able to come up with one—nor was I sure I wouldn't do something rash at her wedding. Like knee him in the groin.

That damn day came around all too quickly too—as if mocking me—and a week out from the dreaded date, Alice came to stay; bringing with her the hideous pink bridesmaid dress I was being forced to wear.

It fit like a glove, and as I stared at myself aghast in my full-length closet mirror, I wished I'd had the foresight to stop working out, or something, to sabotage it.

To be fair the dress was beautiful, and under any other circumstances I would have loved to wear it, but with the knowledge that Edward and I were about to come face to face fast becoming reality, I was in a near panic.

I did _not_ want to see him—especially without a date and with my angel wing tattoo on full display. And I sure as hell didn't want to see him with his blonde, strip club dancing prostitute hanging off his arm.

Jake had rather sweetly offered to be my date, but I couldn't think of anything more pathetic—unless, of course, I went with Mike Newton.

No, I had to go—I had to go and get through the night to prove to myself that I could do it, and then get past it. That it wouldn't mean the end of the world; even if it meant I had to face him. Even if it meant saying hello, and even if it meant seeing him and his _fiancé_.

That night Forks had the worst snow storm in fifty years. The power cut out early into it and not long after my furnace broke down. Alice and I were forced to bed early, snuggling together—along with Buddy—for warmth. I was secretly relieved.

She had been cheerfully discussing all things regarding her wedding, but I had lost myself in thought, becoming too quiet. Alice quickly became aware of it and soon after it began to reflect in her. The conversation became strained and awkward, so when the lights went out, I think both of us said a quiet thanks, and with the house quickly turning into an ice box, all conversation after was centred on keeping each other distracted from the cold.

Fortunately by morning, the electricity was back on, but Alice was still, by all definition, _off_. This time it was her who was quiet and distracted; she was barely able to look at me, and when she left she practically fled my house in the same manner as I had left hers previously.

Uncle Billy came around mid-morning to fix my furnace, and not long after Alice reappeared, her demeanour unchanged from that morning.

"Bella, we need to talk..." she said to me, expelling her breath as if in resignation, her eyes locked to the floor.

Feeling my forehead knot in confusion, I opened the screen door to let her in.

"What's going on, Alice…?" I asked, after we were sitting opposite each other in the living room.

For a moment she continued to stare at the floor, when she rose her head and locked her eyes with mine so resolutely my heart paused in concern. "You're still in love with Edward, aren't you?"

I had no words. I had never been asked that question before by anyone—even myself.

I only stared at her, my mouth opening and closing like a cod fish, absolutely detesting the fact that I was so transparent; that my feelings for Edward, no matter how ridiculous and nonsensical, were so obvious.

When I didn't answer—when I couldn't answer, she bowed her head, cradling her forehead in her palm, and sighed. "I'm going to give you an out on the wedding."

I immediately shook my head in protest, when she cut me off, stating—almost as if it pained her to say it, "Bella, you say his name in your sleep…"

Again, I was speechless, mortified this time, and feeling my face flood with heat, as I shook my head back in forth in silent contradiction; knowing it was completely futile.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, my eyes lowering, breaking the silence, as well as Alice's obvious preoccupation.

When she met my eyes again, it was in surprise. "Why are you sorry?"

I only shook my head, too ashamed to articulate it.

She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. "Bella ... what if I told you Edward feels the exact same way?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but paused, my heart reacting to the very idea of it, before I quickly became cynical. "I'd say I don't believe you," I concluded.

She just scoffed, shaking her head slightly to herself, ironically almost; though, she was acting so erratically, I really had no idea.

"Alice … you're weirding me out…" I stated.

"Bella, do you remember when you saw that photo of him at my house? What you said about him?" she asked.

"Yeah…?" I answered slowly, unsure what she was getting at.

"You have no idea how right you were about him—I thought it was normal for him, and he was back to being himself, but Edward fucking half of Seattle _isn't_ normal for him. It was symptomatic of how unhealthy he was—he _is_," she was rambling, and speaking too quickly. I was barely able to keep up, to process it, as I shook my head back and forth, cringing away from what she was admitting at the same time

"Alice—what part of you thinks I want to hear this? You know … as much as I enjoy hearing about how he's fucked half of Seattle…" I eventually burst impatiently—sarcastically, while my confusion remained intact.

Alice only shook her head, for her own benefit, to clear her own thoughts, or for mine, I wasn't sure. "I thought I knew him better, Bella, when all along I didn't. It's you who really knew him—who really understood him. I shared a womb with him—I should have known how unhappy he was."

"Alice, bloody hell—you're not making any sense, and this is pissing me off!" I snapped this time, completely irritated by this point, making her jump.

She was shaking her head, looking more and more anxious and fidgety—and full of guilt. "I was going to tell you the day I came to your house, after Newton attacked you. That's why I came to see you."

"Tell me _what_, _Alice_!?" I demanded, my voice rising in frustration, as my heart began to completely flood my senses.

"Bella…" she began, before releasing her breath so deeply, her shoulders sank with it. "Edward never broke up with you."

For a moment I only stared at her, unable to comprehend what she'd just said. "What-what do you mean?" I stammered.

"My parents wanted you and Edward apart, and I ... and I went along with it," she finally confessed, her eyes once more falling to her feet.

For the longest time I didn't say a thing, I couldn't. I only stared at her, trying to process it; telling myself it was impossible.

"Bella, say something," she pleaded with me, when I still hadn't answered.

"What did you do, Alice…?" I asked her, my voice barely a whisper and wavering; my hands trembling beyond my control.

"That day in the gazebo at Port Angeles … none of it was true," she admitted, and I could see it in her eyes, the guilt she felt, her tone full of genuine regret; it was the only thing that convinced me.

"Why...?" I asked her, my entire body beginning to shake.

She shook her head, her eyes beginning to well with tears. "I don't even know anymore."

"_You don't know_?" I mocked her, as the shock slowly subsided; becoming replaced with growing anger.

"Bella—I'm so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing," she pleaded with me, her tone beseeching, but I was completely unmoved.

I only shook my head, confusion setting in again, as I tried to make sense of it—of all of it. "So … wait, there was no girl? He didn't move to California?"

"There was no girl, no. There's never been any girl, apart from _you_," she admitted, softly, almost smiling at me.

Again I only stared at her, my mind struggling to comprehend it, when I suddenly gasped, my hand intuitively clamping over my heart. "What have you done?" I asked her, my voice straining to become audible. When, in the next moment, I lunged off the sofa. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, ALICE?!" I screeched at her, shaking so much I was beginning to feel completely irrational.

She only cringed away from me. "I'm so sorry." Her voice was meek, but it only incensed me.

My chest was becoming restricted, I could barely breathe as tears sprang to my eyes. "Do you know what you've put me through—DO YOU!?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, continuing to bloody shake her head, as if it was supposed to give me some kind of comfort.

"You're sorry!" I said more or less to myself, raising my palm to my brow, in near disbelief, as I came down again. "Oh my God…"

"Bella," she rose from the sofa after me, "all I can do is make it right. What do you want to do?"

I turned to her, my hand dropping to my side in complete incredulous shock, but also in sudden defeat. "What can I do—it's been six years and he's engaged!"

She shook her head, to contradict me, but I cut her off, as anger quickly encompassed me again, "What did you tell him—did you lie to him too?"

She only nodded, unable to look at me again.

"What did you tell him?" I repeated, my tone suddenly calm, while every part of my being was the polar opposite. I was coursing with energy so palpable my skin was literally tingling.

"I told him that you decided to stay in Australia," she admitted in a small voice.

"And he believed you—just like that?" I began to pace.

"No, it took a while, but he eventually believed it," she mumbled.

"What kind of person does this? What kind of person does this and then faces me as if NOTHING HAS HAPPENED?" I yelled, my emotions switching back to anger and disbelief again.

I only stared at her. Did I ever really know this person—this person who was my best friend for so many years. This person I trusted with my life.

"It's eaten away at me so much, Bella—but I thought I was doing the right thing," she declared, while I only snorted at her audacity—as realisation suddenly hit me.

"That's why you acted so weirdly that day I went to your apartment in Seattle—to give Edward's clothes back!"

She nodded, conceding. "He was due home right about that time. He actually came home five minutes after you left…"

"Oh my God…" I whispered more or less to myself, completely dumbfounded, my trembling hand once again raising to my forehead. "All this time…"

"I'm so sorry, Bella," she repeated her useless declarations, but I ignored her.

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, throw up, faint, or cry, but as every conflicting emotion raged through me, I began to feel very volatile.

In the next moment I rounded on her, scaring her so much, she stumbled backwards. "You need to leave—you need to leave NOW!" And as the words left my mouth, Buddy suddenly ran into the room, coming to a halt in front of me and growling lowly at Alice.

For a moment she froze, glancing from me to Buddy, her eyes widening in fear.

"GET OUT!" I roared at her, breaking her hesitation, as Buddy's growling increased.

As if in resignation she calmly walked through the front door, turning back to me on the front porch. "Bella, please believe—," she began.

"I hate you!" I cut her off, gripping the door like a vice as I practically convulsed in anger. "I never want to speak to you again—ever!" And with that I slammed the door on her, as Buddy started barking madly.

For the next several minutes all I could do was pace the living room as I fought to get myself under some kind of control. My heart was literally slamming against my ribcage to the point I felt breathless and faint, as the tears began to strangle from my throat. It was so incomprehensible that I couldn't wrap my mind around it. That everything I had been led to believe for the last five and a half years had been a lie. That Alice would do this to me—that Alice _could_ do this to me!

I was close to being hysterical, and feeling completely disjointed when a knock on my front door suddenly snapped me out of it. With my emotions turning to sheer seething anger, I reefed open the door, ready to murder her.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO—," I abruptly stopped.

It was Angela.

"B—oh my God what's happened?" she exclaimed, her expression transforming into alarm.

I broke down; completely letting it go and almost dropped to my knees.

"Oh, babe," Angela said gently, wrapping her arms around me, pressing me against her pregnant belly, as she led me back inside.

"He-he-he, he never..." I stuttered, unable to form coherent thought, as I continued to sob uncontrollably.

"Babe, slow down. Start again," she coaxed me gently.

"He-he never left me, Ang! Edward never left me!"

* * *

**A/N: 9.5K words. Yikes, I haven't done one that long in a while. I hope you enjoyed and feel free to review, because who doesn't like those?  
The next chapter they will finally face one another again. What will happen...?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Well, aren't I nice, updating early. To be honest, I'm going to be out all day tomorrow and then I have to attend my brother in law's very riveting 40th birthday party. If I could get out of it I would. I already went to the zoo a few months back. One trip a year is sufficient ;)  
Alrighty, I hope you enjoy. **

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 12**

**Edward's POV**

Alice told me Bella had bought the Forks Coffee Shop and then renovated it with the money she'd received from her mother's inheritance. It was on the main road in Forks, so I wouldn't be able to miss it. Not that I would have anyway, because it was no longer called the Forks Coffee Shop; it was now called _Kel's_.

It was the only thing that had changed in this damn town in six years!

I pulled in to the parking lot with my hands already trembling beyond my control and just as a fire was lit beneath my skin. It surprised me by how foreign it felt, when it had been so natural in my life—until the day it was gone.

The day she was gone.

The parking lot was full, and for a moment I just sat in my car, glancing around at all the others; wondering which one belonged to Bella. I was stalling; I was a fucking basket case and my damn heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was physically moving me—shaking my whole car.

It still took me several minutes more, taking one deep breath after another, talking myself down, before on auto pilot—and before I could talk myself out of it—I got out and headed toward the entrance.

The place was jam-packed, and when I walked inside I immediately collided with someone—impulsively reaching out to steady them.

"Edward?!" a voice exclaimed.

I looked down; it was Angela Weber, and she was smiling up at me warmly—brightly. A little too brightly...

"Hi, Angela," I replied, throwing her a grin I knew bordered on the unhinged, and probably coming off as a sociopath.

But then everyone in the damn restaurant was suddenly staring at me.

"Long time no see—what brings you back here?" she asked when I realized she was the waitress; a pen was behind her ear, an apron with "Kel's" written on the front, covering her obviously pregnant stomach.

"Bella..." I answered truthfully, but feeling so unsure of myself all of a sudden that it practically came out as a question.

Her smile broadened a fraction, her head nodding in understanding. "She's out in the kitchen. Do you want me to let her know you're here?"

"Um ... yeah—thank you," I replied, stammering.

Her forehead suddenly quirked. "Are you okay?"

_No_, I wanted to say. My hands were shaking beyond fucking comprehension and I was so on edge my ears were starting to ring. On top of this I was struggling to process the incredible anger I was still feeling, while grasping the fact that I was about to see her again—see her, knowing she'd _never_ left me.

In the end I only nodded, throwing her an awkward smile.

Angela's grin turned almost shrewd before she grabbed my elbow. "Let me see if I can find you a table, and then I'll go and get Bella."

"Thank you," I repeated, breathing a little easier as she guided me through the crowded restaurant, and found me a single table in the corner, before disappearing again.

It felt like a freaking eternity when she returned, and this time the smirk on her face was obvious. She handed me a menu. "She'll be out in a little while to take your order. Would you like a drink?"

"Just ... water, thank you," I said stiffly, barely able to find my voice, and I swear her lips twitched freaking secretively.

Jesus, it felt like high school again.

"Alrighty..." she replied cheerfully, before maneuvering her way through the tables again.

Five minutes passed, possibly ten—I was so amped up I couldn't tell—before I picked up the menu and read it; if only to have something to occupy myself with, something to keep my clammy fucking hands busy—and something to hide behind from all the curiosity.

_6 Oz Top Sirloin, 11.95_. _Sautéed mushrooms +2.95. 2 shrimp skewers +2.95—_

"May I take your order, Sir?" I was interrupted—by an Australian accent!

I looked up, and there she was.

Just like that.

After six years without her, she stood before me; only a woman had now replaced my girl. A woman with that same smile, and those same eyes, as if not a day had gone by.

And I was suddenly an open flame; a trembling fucking mess; and so high strung my body was beginning to confuse it as arousal.

"Hey ... Bella." My voice was too soft—too affected, but in turn it only increased the warmth of her smile, until it seemed she was subtly smiling to herself.

"Hi, Edward."

_Edwud_—she hadn't lost her accent; though, it wasn't as pronounced as it once was. I had this needy fucking fear she'd lost it altogether.

I cleared my throat, needing to look away from her for a moment to collect myself—to pull myself together. I was coming apart.

Jesus fucking Christ, how did she get this beautiful without me...?

"H-how are you?" I asked, stammering, as I glanced back up at her.

Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, while a trouble look was beginning to etch on her face, but as her eyes caught mine, she quickly masked it behind that smile again. "I'm good. You...?"

"Ah ... fine." My eyes broke from hers again—Jesus, I was a fucking wreck.

"Would ... you like to order something?" She sounded uncertain, and when I turned to her again, her expression was reflecting it.

Was I making her uncomfortable? Even after all this time it was still so hard to read her.

"Uh—sure." I picked up the menu, scanning it hastily, without really reading it, before placing it down again. "What's the house special?"

"Pan fried oysters," she answered, pulling a note pad and pen from her apron—a pink pen.

I faltered, my eyes glued to it for a moment, before back to her eyes. "OK ... I'll have that."

She hesitated, what was left of her smile completely fading. "Aren't ... you allergic to oysters?"

She remembered that?

I broke into a reluctant smile, pushing the air through my nose shortly, deciding to come clean. "Bella ... I didn't come here to have dinner. I was wondering if ... you wanted to talk."

She nodded, smiling again—genuine but not without an element of hesitation. "Sure…"

"What time do you close?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

"Around 10:30—I'm guessing ... Alice…" she seemed to abandon it, a frown momentarily creasing her forehead.

"Yeah…" I nodded in understanding, clenching my jaw impulsively at just the mention of her.

She huffed to herself lightly, her head shaking fractionally, and for a moment her expression completely darkened. She looked pissed off, but not only that; she also seemed … vulnerable—defenseless…

And I knew where she was coming from—to be so fucking shattered it left a lasting mark on you.

When her eyes again focused on me, I smiled at her, subtly letting her know I knewexactly what she'd gone through.

And to think that my own fucking sister could go along with this—my mother I understood, but Alice?!

She returned my smile, gently, before seeming to snap, she cleared her throat hastily. "I'd better get back to it. It's pretty busy tonight. Would you still like to order something?"

"Sure." Again I scanned the menu, before glancing back at her. She had her pen poised against the note pad, and she was smiling to herself again—like she used to; as if I wasn't fooling her at all. "I'll have the roast beef."

"Okay … won't be long," she said, after scribbling it down before flashing me an, all of a sudden, broad grin, and turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

I watched her go. She was wearing a pair of jeans, and a white t-shirt beneath her apron, which emphasized how much she'd filled out. She had curves now, when once she was this scrawny thing who was one size up from being flat chested, and if I had to guess, she'd been working out. The muscles on her arms were more defined.

Actually, her entire body was more accentuated—and she was wearing cowboy boots.

Fuck me sideways ... it was almost erotic!

A couple of minutes later she returned carrying a tray. Flashing me that freaking smile again, she leaned over me, setting a glass of sparkling water in front of me, with a lemon slice floating on top, along with what remained in the bottle, a basket of bread, a napkin, and a set of utensils.

I was immediately flooded by the scent of her—she still smelled exactly like she always did, a mixture of soap, shampoo and body spray that always made me ridiculously fucking horny—while I had to practically force my eyes on the table in front of me to stop myself from looking at her cleavage. It's not like she did it deliberately or anything; I was just a horny bastard and knew by the vee-neck shirt she was wearing what would happen the moment she leaned forward.

Besides, I really didn't need an erection in the middle of the restaurant with all the locals staring unashamedly at me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, without meeting her gaze, feeling my fucking ears suddenly on fire.

"No worries," she said simply, her tone a fraction softer, before she was gone again.

My meal arrived about fifteen minutes later. Angela served it to me this time, still grinning at me with way too much perception that I wondered exactly what was being said about me. What Bella was saying about me.

"When's your baby due?" I asked her, if only as a distraction from it.

"Oh," she placed her hand on her stomach, "not for a while. Three months—and hey, we all saw you on television a few months ago. When you delivered the baby in the back of your ambulance."

I blinked, and all I could think was if Bella had seen me—she would have known I_ wasn't_ in California like the little fucking rat had told her...

"Uh ... yeah," I answered, with a self-conscious grin, "it was pretty … full on."

"I can imagine," Angela added, before flashing me a parting smile and walking away.

I ate my meal, slowly, keeping a discreet eye out for Bella. She stayed busy serving meals, taking orders, and disappearing in and out of the kitchen. She chatted with the customers, and she smiled _all the time—_occasionally at me, after catching my gaze from across the room, because let's face it, my eyes never left her.

She looked … happy, and I was beginning to get fucking neurotic that she'd never missed me at all—that she'd remained as at ease as she was this moment throughout the hell that was the last six years for me. I wanted to believe I was the reason she was so happy; that would have made me an egotistical prick, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was something distinctly different about her.

Something I couldn't put my finger on.

I spent an hour trying to work it out before, conceding defeat, I rose to pay my bill. A young girl was working the register, and as she rung up my meal, I noticed Bella to the side, just inside the kitchen slicing a large chocolate cake. She was looking down, concentrating on what she was doing, and with her hair pulled into a pony tail, it exposed the tattoo she had on the lower part of her neck.

It was an angel wing—a blue angel wing; in fact, it looked exactly like the angel wing that used to hang from the necklace she bought me all those years ago for my eighteenth birthday. I'd worn that necklace every day of my damn life, until the day I found out—or more, _I was lied to _by my fucking sister—she was staying in Australia permanently. I'd ripped it from my neck and threw it in the Duwamish Waterway as I drove over the 1st Avenue Bridge.

"Your change, Sir," the girl broke me from my thoughts, handing me a couple of dollars with a friendly smile.

Throwing her a hasty grin, I turned to leave, but not before glancing over at Bella one more time.

She'd turned, carrying the cake in her hands, when our eyes met. Immediately I was flushing freaking hot, and feeling over exposed, but she just smiled at me, warmly, genuinely, before mouthing "Bye."

Releasing my breath, I returned her smile, mouthing back "10:30?"

Her smile broadened before she nodded lightly, and along with the degree of my skin, her cheeks burned, reminding me suddenly of that girl I had once known. That she was still there, somewhere.

**...**

The moment I walked out of the restaurant, the adrenalin began to immediately wear off, leaving me a shaky sack of nerves, and instantly reverting back to pissed off.

Pissed fucking off and needing more answers, because "I was afraid you were going to kill yourself" just wasn't cutting it.

Getting in my car, I drove to the Pacific Inn Hotel—which was literally fifty feet down the road—checking in for the night. I had a couple of hours before I was meeting with Bella and I wanted this shit out on the table.

Throwing my keys on the bed, I pulled out my phone and called my mother. She answered straight away, sounding fucking happy to hear from me.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, her tone warm, and fucking motherly that it only made me angrier.

"So, a funny thing happened today," I began, coldly, without returning the fucking pleasantries. "Alice told me how six years ago you all conspired against me to ruin my fucking life!"

She sighed, deeply, before pausing. "Edward ... it wasn't like that, at all."

"Really? You all lying to me for years? How else would you put it?"

"It wasn't an easy decision to make, Edward, believe—" she attempted to explain, but I cut her off, only becoming more irate.

"_IT WASN'T YOUR DECISION TO MAKE_—don't you fucking get it?"

"Edward, you need to calm down, _now_." Her tone turned firm, as though I was fucking ten. "We can talk about it, but not when you're like this."

"Do you really think you have the right to take the high road, right now?" I challenged her.

"You really have no idea what you did to any of us, do you," she declared suddenly sounding irritated. "It got to the point where I had to make a decision to somehow get you to start acting maturely and rationally—because I was _not_ going to have a police officer knock on my door at 2 am for me to I.D your body, Edward."

"_Spare me_!" I spat.

"No, I won't." Her voice raised, indignantly. "You never had any control when it came to Bella, and you wore that poor girl down—like you did to us all."

"What the fuck does that mean?' I demanded. "You sound like I was abusive to her?"

"Edward…" she paused, taking a short breath, as if collecting herself, "Bella was emotionally unhealthy, and you only added to it. Granted you kept her distracted from it by fighting with her all the time, but every time you did you'd go off the rails, making things a thousand times worse—breaking your arm trying to climb through her bedroom window was the least of it, and you know it."

I scoffed, not buying any of it. "So you _decided_ I needed to be separated from her for six years—is that it?"

"We only meant for it to be about a year—or long enough for you to pull your head together and grow up enough that you could handle such a serious relationship." She sounded defensive now, as fucking arrogant as that was.

"Oh, you just _forgot_ to tell me how you lied to us?" I said sarcastically. "Mom, this sounds like utter bullshit. I was a kid when Bella and I were first together, when you all decided to interfere I was twenty years old—we weren't kids anymore and you had no fucking _right_!"

"You might have been _twenty years old_," she said fucking mockingly, "but you still got your girlfriend pregnant, jumped to the wrong conclusions like you always did, and disappeared for two weeks without any of us knowing where you were. Do you know what that did to all of us—to _Alice_? Or would you like me to tell you what it did to _Bella_?"

I paused, my heart stalling for a moment, and it gave my mother the opportunity to twist the fucking knife.

"I went to see her a few days after her surgery, and she was emotionally_ exhausted_, Edward," she began, delicately—to spare my fucking feelings, I wasn't sure. "You were nowhere to be seen and for all we knew you'd driven over an embankment somewhere, and she was just ... _in pieces._ She kept apologizing to me and telling me how horrible she'd been to you, that I realized exactly how unhealthy things were between the two of you—and how _detrimental _to her."

"So that's when you decided to interfere, was it?" I asked, trying to prevent my voice from reflecting the fucking pain that she'd just dragged up. "Bella had already decided we needed a break—see, we were fucking capable of sorting out our own shit."

"Edward!" she exclaimed in disbelief—for what I had no idea. "Bella shut down communication with you—that was all her, by the way, and not our doing—and you _lost it_. You were horrible to Alice, when all she was doing was respecting Bella's wishes. Emmett told us how you were drunk every day. We were all on_ tenterhooks_, Edward, waiting for that phone call—_that's_ when we decided."

"How fucking good of you," I said bitterly, my voice barely a whisper.

"Oh my goodness—I had no idea it had gone on for so long. We just assumed you and Bella would find your way back to each other and by that time you'd be a little more mature—and Bella would be healed."

"Well here's a fucking newsflash, Mom. You assumed _WRONG_. Everyone went about their own lives and just left me fucking hanging. I never got over her—and I _never_ fucking recovered. It ripped my heart in two—does any_ one_ of you get that?" My voice eventually caught, and I tore the phone away from my ear, taking a forced, measured breath to pull myself back under control again.

"Edward..." I heard my mother's voice speak through the receiver, but for a moment I ignored her, dragging my hand back through my hair, feeling myself coming apart and unable to stop it. "Edward…? Are you there?"

"Yeah…" I eventually answered, my tone low.

"Please talk to Alice about this—and I don't want you blaming her. If you want to be angry, be angry at me. Alice never wanted to go along with this. I put her in a very difficult position."

I scoffed at how fucking poetic it was that she was trying to protect Alice, before ditching it and changing course. "Bella's family—they went along with it too?—because don't forget, Mom," my voice rose again, accusingly, "you also did this to _her_!"

She sighed, deeply, heavily; it washed over the receiver noisily. "No, they had no knowledge of it, and I'm not sure Chief Swan would have gone along with it, anyway."

"Looks like Chief Swan has more morals than you and Carlisle."

"Edward…" she sighed. "Please understand..."

"If it was a year, I might have, but six? How the fuck do you expect me to understand _that_?" I demanded.

"I don't expect you to, sweetheart. I honestly thought..." and obviously knowing it was futile now, she let it go.

"You thought_ wrong_—anyway, I gotta go." And with that, I hung up, threw the phone on the bed, and yanked both my hands back through my hair.

I paced the room for a few minutes, attempting to calm myself down, before I sat on the edge of the bed, dropping my head in my palms. In a sense, I understood my mother's reasoning; I was irrational more times than not when I was with Bella, and I was the cause of a lot of shit, but to let it go on for so long and be so fucking cavalier about what it did to me?

And Alice—Alice should have known better. Alice knew above everyone else what Bella meant to me.

Grabbing my phone again, I called the little rat; she answered after the fifth ring, not sounding too fucking pleased to hear from me.

"Tell me again, Alice—why did you wait six years to tell me?" I blurted out.

"I-I already told you…" she stammered, sounding unconvincing.

"What I mean is, why didn't you ever tell me sooner—because Mom seems to think that was the arrangement!" I exclaimed, dryly.

She sighed, hesitating. "To be honest, Edward, I was going to tell you about two years later. You were masking it really well, and I thought you were okay—I mean, you were back to acing all your exams and sleeping with anything with breasts—"

Immediately impatient, I cut her off, "What the hell is your point, Alice?"

"You went back to being who you once were, before you ever met Bella, but Bella..." she let it trail off, her tone sounding suddenly affected, that my heart seized.

"But Bella _what, Alice_?"

"Bella ... she just looked so heartbroken all the time—I felt so rotten!"

"So you should have!" I snapped.

"I did, believe me!" she hollered back.

"Poor snookums," I replied, sarcastically.

"Anyway," her tone abruptly hardened, "Bella started seeing Sam—"

"_Sam?_" I broke in darkly, going immediately tense.

"Sam ... Uley?" she breeched.

"_How the fuck would I know, Alice_!" I exploded, past fucking patience. "I wasn't allowed to know she was back—remember?"

"OK, that was insensitive," she conceded.

"Ya think!?"

"I'm _sorry_—anyway, she started dating him, and he was really good to her, Edward, and for a while she seemed … happy..."

"Is this supposed to be making me feel better? _Are you fucking kidding me_!?" I raged, rubbing my fingers heavily over my forehead, while the image of Bella with another guy made me feel _very_ rigid.

"I thought for a while that maybe Mom was right and you were better off without each other…" Her voice broke softly, before she let go of her breath and elaborated, "And then Jazz got sick and … my focus shifted."

I paused, contemplating it, but I wasn't convinced. "I get that Jazz got sick, Alice, but do you seriously expect me to believe that for six years you didn't know how it fucked me up?"

"Of course I knew in the beginning, but then—you were screwing anything in sight and after that you were with Kate—and Edward, you were so much _calmer_," she emphasized, as if it was justification, when nothing was further from the truth.

"I wasn't _calm_, Alice," I said slowly, through clenched teeth. "I didn't let myself feel a fucking thing—of course I would appear fucking calm."

"I know..." she suddenly sounded anguished, "but for all intents and purposes you seemed like you had moved on. It wasn't until Kate mentioned it, and then I saw your face today when I showed you Bella's photo…"

"You never asked me—not once did you ask me if I was fine, if I missed her—nothing_. For all intents and purposes, Alice_"—I mocked her—"you seemed like you didn't give a fuck!"

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she said, suddenly sounding like she was on the edge of tears. "I regret ever going along with it—and Bella hates me."

I laughed dryly. "So she should."

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asked, hopefully, but I couldn't find it in myself to feel an ounce of pity for her.

"_It's too late_, Alice!" I said sharply before hanging up.

**...**

I had a shower; I was too on edge, and feeling more and more strung out. This was on top of the growing anticipation I was feeling at the mere thought of meeting with Bella, that I suddenly wished I could ask Alice more.

She'd said Bella said my name in her sleep—but when? Recently or years ago?

Fuck it, picking up my phone I asked her in a text message.

She replied not a minute later, **three days ago.**

My heart immediately skipped, while a smile broke subconsciously across my face, but I still needed more.

**Did she ever say anything to you directly?** I asked.

**You know how she deals with things, Edward. She stopped mentioning you, and if you were brought up she got angry, only her face always gave her away, and she couldn't disguise the pain in her eyes.**

I had to read this twice, and it impacted me like a fucking vice around my heart. I exhaled heavily, feeling immediately burdened by it. To hear Bella being so hurt still affected me just like it always did, and more than I could ever really comprehend.

**Fuck, Alice. Did you ever stop to think what you were doing?**

**Tons of times**. And before I could reply she sent another message. **Can you ever forgive me, Edward?**

**Depends on how well tonight goes**, I answered.

**Are you in Forks?** she replied not twenty seconds later, and I could practically hear her screechy voice through the text.

**Yes.**

**What happened with Kate?**

**I found her in bed with her boss**, I replied, grinning suddenly as the image pushed back through my mind.

**SERIOUS?!**

**Serious**, I typed back.

**I can't say I'm surprised**, Alice replied with, before, **Fingers crossed, Edward**.

I didn't reply back. It was better if I didn't focus further on Alice's meaning, for the benefit of my restraint; for the fact that I was becoming hornier than I was on edge.

**...**

I arrived a half hour earlier. I couldn't stand waiting a minute longer at the hotel room; I was going fucking nuts. Not that waiting in the car was any better, but from where I was parked I could see Bella intermittently moving past the windows, while I counted every last customer as they left.

There wasn't any unfamiliar faces in the crowds; not that there ever was. Bella was most likely still the newest Forks member who wasn't born here, and before that, _my family_.

My family: something which now automatically meant something completely different to me…

When the last person finally pulled out of the parking lot, I got out of my car and again walked to the entrance. The doors were locked and inside I could see Bella sweeping the floors, when almost on impulse, she turned to face me.

I only smiled at her, feeling it broaden when she returned it, warmly, and made her way over.

Reaching up on her toes, she unlocked the door, holding it open for me, and visibly shivering as the wind swept through.

"Hi," she said, shuddering, and quickly closing it after me.

"Hey." My voice was still too soft, but I had absolutely no control over it, because just seeing her so completely different, but exactly the same was already affecting me.

"This weather still shocks the hell out of me," she admitted, laughing lightly to herself, before stretching up again to lock the door.

"Here, let me get that for you," I intercepted her, reaching over to lock it, wondering why she was even locking it at all. It was Forks, after all.

"Thanks," she said, her smile turning somewhat wry.

I smiled back, self-conscious all of a sudden, because that's how she often made me feel. "You're welcome," I mumbled.

"Do-do you want a coffee?" she suddenly breached, her brows shooting up, her eyes widening.

Those eyes of hers; deep and endless, and not nearly as at ease as she appeared.

"Sure," I replied, nodding.

"OK, well find us a table and I'll go make it," she suggested, before maneuvering through the tables to the counter.

I sat in the booth closest to me and watched her go, my eyes glued to the back of her; this mature version of my Bella. The one I didn't see take shape.

It took her a couple of minutes to make the coffee, the whoosh of the espresso maker drowning out the loud thudding of my heart for the moment, while I wiped my clammy fucking hands on my pants, and talked myself out of breaking into a sweat. It was almost comical, this reaction. I once thought it was just teenage hormones, but now to be honest, I had no idea what it was; just that it was connected to her.

Setting the two coffees down on the table, she sat opposite me, and smiled, only this time it fell short, while that vulnerability crept back into her eyes.

And so, taking an inevitable breath, I held her gaze and asked her what I'd come all this way to say, "What did Alice tell you?"

"Yesterday … or five years ago?" Her voice dropped, and as her forehead bridged she looked away.

"Both," I answered inevitably.

She seemed to waver for a moment, before clearing her throat, her eyes once again locking with mine. "She told me after I got pregnant you realized you didn't want anything so serious"—I was immediately fuming—"so you transferred to California to get your EMT, and then ... met someone else. And yesterday she told me it was all a lie…"

There was an angry, pissed off edge to her tone, but at the same time there was something really fucking raw about it, as though it was ripping her apart just repeating it.

The same reaction I was having hearing her say it, and it extinguished all my anger in a heartbeat

I only gazed at her for a moment, watching as she took a deep breath and released it, shaking her head fractionally to herself, while her eyes became completely overrun.

The little rat was right. Bella couldn't conceal what she was feeling from reflecting in her eyes, and right now they were drowning in equal parts of pain and anger.

"Bella," I said softly, wanting to reach out and grab her hand, and having to almost restrain myself not to, "did … you really think I'd do that to you?"

Though, it wasn't lost on me that every stupid fucking thing I'd ever done while we were together, the least of it taking off when she was pregnant, would have made it all too easy for Alice to convince her.

It's not that I had a good fucking record.

She stared at me for a moment, before again shaking her head. "No, yes—I don't know. I-I didn't have any reason to suspect Alice was lying—did you think I'd stay in Australia and never ever get in contact with you again?"

"You cut all communication off, Bella. It ... made it … seem…" I abandoned it. I didn't want her to think I was laying any of the blame on her, but how fucking poetic that it all seemed to validate the lie that was told to us.

She only continued to gaze at me, her brows bunching together as though she was suddenly confused. "Didn't Alice ever pass on my messages?"

"Messages…?" I asked her slowly, having no idea what she was talking about.

She opened her mouth, but seemed to pause, her eyes remaining on me as if she was gauging me, while all I could think was, _what fucking messages? _"Oh my God," she eventually spoke, her voice soft and straining in disbelief. "It was all planned—from the very beginning!"

"What was?" I pressed her gently; I was completely in the dark, and it pissed me off. "Bella—what messages?"

"I didn't want to cut you off, Edward," she explained, and she sounded frustrated, while at the same time becoming visibly upset. "Alice convinced me that I should so you wouldn't be able to distract me, and she promised to communicate between us."

Alice! Alice who I had just been told had nothing to do with Bella cutting me off!

I tensed, feeling the anger infiltrate me again, almost fucking laughing bitterly. "She never passed any messages to me, Bella."

"None at all?" she asked, her voice hardening; though, it was more of a statement.

"None," I confirmed.

Bella did laugh, or at least, I think she meant it to be. "Oh my fucking God!" she burst, pissed off and indignant, before bringing her hand to her forehead and looking like she wanted to rip the skin off. "I … I-I just have no words."

I had words—a lot of fucking words, but what I didn't have was any kind of comprehension over why Alice would go this far. She'd ripped my fucking heart to shreds, and now it was evident she'd done the same thing to Bella.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I confessed, my voice almost failing—feeling fucking culpable by the fact that I was related to the people who'd done this to her.

"Don't say you're sorry, Edward!" she said, sharply, and she was so angry she appeared to be close to tears. "You did nothing wrong!"

"It was never you," I insisted hastily, feeling suddenly anxious by her reaction. "I was such a fuck up."

"We were still young and working things out..." she said, shaking her head to herself, before looking up and locking her eyes with mine again.

They were burning, completely engulfed, and I couldn't read them. I couldn't read her eyes, but I could feel her, because every emotion she was fighting with was suddenly rebounding through me until I began to feel incredibly unstable.

"I _still_ haven't got things worked out," I confessed, smiling at her gently and shrugging a shoulder in an attempt to lighten things up.

She laughed softly, more or less under her breath, before tilting her head slightly to the side. "Me either."

For a moment I only grinned at her, watching as her smile broadened at the same time. That smile I had not seen for so long I began to convince myself I'd imagined it. That smile that was one part to herself, another part cynical and 100% seeing right through me.

"I saw you in Port Angeles a couple of years ago," she mused, crossing her arms on top of the table. "You were with Jazz."

"You did?" I asked. "You didn't come over…?" Because if she had, this shit could have all ended then.

"Um…" she broke into a small inward smile, "if I did, it wouldn't have been pretty. I probably would have seriously maimed you."

I almost laughed, smothering it at the last minute. "I wouldn't have blamed you."

She drew her shoulders up for a moment, before relaxing them, admitting with a quiet voice, "But ... I would never have let you know how much you hurt me."

I felt my face immediately cloud, fucking hating that she'd felt that way about me for all those years—that it was taken out of my hands.

"I'm so sorry you got hurt, Bella," I said to her gently, trying to prevent my voice from reflecting how fucking pissed off I still was underneath it all.

Her brow quirked and she smiled again, teasing me, "You're apologizing again."

"I am…" I admitted, grinning to myself.

She was still so much that girl I once knew, but at the same time, I was almost reluctant to go deeper—afraid of how the last six years had affected her, or what kind of lasting effects my family and their bullshit lies had on her.

Again, she only smiled at me, and it wasn't awkward at all, but at the same time, I couldn't read her. Was she just being polite?

Jesus, I was a needy fucking sap, and since when was Bella ever "polite", anyway? That was what I loved about her most. She never put on a front.

"Oh," she suddenly piped up, her expression immediately reversing, as she reached into her apron pocket and brought out her phone, "Alice sent me a text today." And flicking through it, she suddenly held it up for me to read:

**Bella, I told Edward today. He reacted just as angrily as you did, and I realized how selfish and stupid I have been. Can you ever forgive me?**

I scoffed.

"How the fuck did she expect me to react?" I muttered, more or less to myself.

"Edward..." she began and when I again met her eyes, they were all but pleading with me, "why? I just want to know why?"

"She ... didn't tell you?" I asked; though, I wasn't fucking surprised.

She shook her head. "No, she told me she couldn't remember anymore." And it wasn't so much that she was angry about it, she was also offended by it.

Because, yeah—only fucking Alice could fuck with your life and then claim to have forgotten why.

I scoffed again, pissed off at her fucking nerve, until something in Bella's expression—in her eyes—halted my emotions in an instant. She only stared at me, looking so injured that I suddenly realized the extent that Alice had hurt her—had betrayed her, because I'd only ever seen this look in her eyes once before; when we were in Australia for Kel's funeral.

And she wanted answers—she _needed_ them.

"It was me, Bella," I confessed, expelling my breath and letting my eyes drop to the coffee in front of me. "Apparently I had become such a danger to myself, and everyone around me, my mother felt the need to intervene," I sighed again, heavily, resigned, before again meeting her eyes. She only gazed at me, her brow slightly bunched, but her expression was beginning to look really fucking stricken, "and she—and fucking Alice—believed you were ... the trigger, I guess, and we needed to be apart."

She didn't say anything; she only appeared to absorb it, and for a moment her expression almost broke, when I quickly realized she wasn't hurt by what I'd said as much as she was pissed off.

In fact, an obvious momentum of anger was growing within her; it was the way she visibly tensed, and the way her breath came stiffly out of her nose. And in the next moment, she locked her burning eyes to mine, and burst, "I've been taking care of myself my whole life, Edward! I _don't_ need people looking after me, or _making decisions_ for me! What complete _bullshit_!"

Without thinking about it I reached out and grabbed her hand. "It wasn't you, Bella—don't ever believe it was. It was me—it was _always_ me," I insisted, and despite my best efforts to keep my voice calm, to keep the anger out of it, my tone grew so irrational it almost broke.

Her eyes held on to mine intently for moment, her expression beginning to mirror mine, before she scoffed dryly as if dismissing it completely. "Needed to be apart?" she echoed me, sarcastically. "I was in Australia for _six months_!"

"I know," I began but she interrupted me.

"Alice used that same reasoning on me before I left. She told me you needed to face the consequences of your actions and I needed to concentrate on myself—she made out she really fucking cared about us!" Her voice was beginning to strain; she looked like she was going to break down, but at the same time, the look on her face was ferocious. I'd never seen her this angry before—ever, and I'd witnessed her go through some pretty fucked up shit.

"Bella"—I squeezed her hand, forcing her focus back to me, and when her eyes reached mine again, looking so fucking fractured, a part of me broke—"Jesus—I'm so sorry."

She opened her mouth to reply, but as realization hit her, she instead broke into a smile; her entire expression relaxing for a moment. "You're apologizing again…" And before I could say anything she laughed, softly, gently, and more to herself, but fuck me, it was like sunshine.

I only laughed with her, beneath my breath more than anything, because as much as I wanted to let it go, I couldn't. I felt too fucking culpable, and deep down a part of me understood this was all a direct result from the shit I'd done when she got pregnant—and for years before that.

Still, I wasn't about to completely justify my mother's actions—or Alice's.

"Oh my God," she added, sounding almost bewildered this time, bringing her palm to her forehead. "This is so nuts."

It was so fucked up I didn't think I could put words to it yet, but at the same time, here I was sitting across from her. This girl who'd haunted me for the last six years—this girl who I didn't seriously think I would ever get over was suddenly before me again; as if none of it had ever happened. But, still, there was definitely something different about her, and I still couldn't work out what.

"Well, that's one way of putting it," I admitted, conceding, because I really had to let go of this anger.

"I don't want to be angry, Edward," she said, as if she was reading my mind. "I've been angry for so long."

"Yeah, I get that…" I replied, my voice softening.

"It's just…" she added, before seeming to abandon it, gazing down at her coffee, stirring it absently with the spoon she'd left in it.

"Tell me, Bella," I pressed her, tentatively, "because I'm not going to believe a damn thing anymore unless I hear it straight from you."

She was so lost in thought I wasn't sure she'd even heard me, until she slowly rose her eyes back to mine. They were welling with tears, her expression crumbling. "Do you know what I thought, Edward?" Her voice was so affected it was little more than a whisper, and immediately I was anxious.

I only shook my head, feeling my brow crease deeply along with hers.

"After what happened—after I had that miscarriage—I thought I was _damaged_!" Her voice rose and caught, and immediately I shook my head, contradicting her, but she continued adamantly, pulling her hand from mine. "So damaged I-I thought I was no longer _whole, _and you couldn't stand to be with me!"

She abruptly stood up, turning her back on me, and instantly I was on my feet, before pausing apprehensively. Her head was bowed, her hand curved around her forehead again. She seemed to do that often, I noted, and it was evident she was struggling, but so long had passed, and I wasn't sure how to respond to her.

"Bella," I said softly, enclosing my hands around her upper arms, feeling so fucking uncertain they were beginning to shake, "I would have _never _thought that about you." I was as sincere and insistent as I could manage—needing her to believe me, but the truth was, at nineteen, I wasn't thinking about babies; I just wanted her. If it came about that losing the baby had rendered her completely infertile, it wouldn't have mattered to me.

Even now.

"I know you wouldn't … _now_," she stated, sounding suddenly frustrated, "but until a day ago, I thought you did. For five years…"

I turned her to face me, cautiously. I was flying completely blind, unsure of the limits between us, but she didn't resist, before slowly, reluctantly raising her head and reconnecting her eyes with mine.

"Bella," I repeated her name gently, my hands grazing down her arms and catching one of her hands, "believe me when I tell you that I understand _everything_ you went through."

She only gazed at me for a moment, her brow etched, the frustration concentrating in her eyes. "I can't understand how Alice could have done this to me."

"She just lost faith in me," I explained to her, shrugging, before my eyes broke from hers, because I still felt one hundred percent fucking criminal. Alice had always stuck by me, all my life. How bad had I gotten for her to make this decision?

"_I_ didn't lose faith in you," she confessed, softly, drawing my gaze back to hers.

"You were the only one who didn't," I replied, gently, breaking into a warm smile.

She smile back, that all-knowing way of hers before she did something that completely surprised me—though, it shouldn't have because it was something she used to do all the time.

Leaning closer to me, she rested her forehead against my chest, while her hands reached over to grab fistfuls of my shirt.

And immediately my body heat surged, compromised by her sudden proximity, and becoming controlled only by my senses. My arms rose to hold her before they froze, suddenly uncertain. It had seemed like a lifetime ago that she was this close to me; so close that the scent of her shampoo engulfed my nostrils, igniting me further; making me feel drunk and horny at the same time.

Then something deep within me snapped, and without another thought, I folded my arms around her and pulled her completely against me.

She was completely receptive to me, going almost fluid against me before her breath gushed from her in one long, drawn out sigh. It immediately engulfed me, washing over me and burning me from the inside out, weakening my resistance—my self-control. Even still, it was almost indescribable to have her in my arms again—something I'd all but given up on. I used to dream about it every night, having her little body against mine, and feeling that spark of warmth even in my sleep. I always woke in a fucked up mess, my heart in a panic even though I knew it was only a projection of her, but feeling like I'd lost her all over again.

Dropping my lips to the top of her head, I tightened my arms around her. I was shaking; I couldn't fucking help it, but then so was she. Her entire body was trembling as she cocooned herself to me, continuing to cling to my shirt. I knew this body language from her; I'd seen it multiple times. She was vulnerable, and lost, and hanging onto me to anchor herself from it.

"I was so angry at you, Edward," she admitted, her voice muffled against my chest. And before I could reply, she continued, "But I had to hang onto it … because it was all that was holding me together."

Her voice wavered and became little more than a whisper, but it cut straight into my soul, and to know how badly she'd suffered—to know she went through the same isolation and loneliness I had—didn't give me any comfort. To witness Bella in pain had always been the biggest detriment to me; it always echoed straight down to my soul, and rebounded in me as anger. Anger because I could barely comprehend the magnitude of what she meant to me most days, and to see her so hurt only heightened emotions that were already so unfamiliar to me. But now, I knew exactly how significant she was. I'd had six years to understand it, but it had only taken me a couple of months of living without her.

She was a part of me. It sounds ridiculous, but I was never able to come up with a simpler way to rationalize it. She was a part of my heart and soul—as much a part of me as one of my limbs. It was the reason why I was always walking around checking to see if I had my wallet and keys; why I always had that feeling I'd forgotten something—that I was missing something. That feeling I wasn't quite whole.

That feeling I was damaged...

"I know you were," I murmured, before I hesitated. "I held myself together ... by not feeling."

Pulling herself back she looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine, confused—as if it was too impossible to understand or comprehend. "What do you mean?" she asked after a moment, her forehead knotting deeply.

"When I thought you were staying in Australia, Bella, it fucking killed me—to the point I could no longer function. So I just shut myself off..." I admitted, my voice too compromised, but even thinking about it now—recalling it all again—fucked with me in ways I couldn't get a handle on.

She took an anguished sounding breath. "Bloody hell … I'm so sorry, Edward."

I broke into an immediate grin; I couldn't help it, but in doing so her face softened, while her smile turned warm and genuine.

"You're apologizing," I teased her, gently.

"Shut up," she murmured, nudging me.

My smile broadened, becoming almost a full grin—fuck me I don't think I could have stopped it if I tried—before I let go of my breath, every damn molecule of air in my lungs. All of it.

And suddenly I was tired—I was fucking exhausted, but then so was she. In fact, she looked like she hadn't slept in years.

She broke my gaze, her smile becoming internal. "So," she began, smoothing down my shirt, before again meeting my eyes, "what are we going to do about all this?"

I took a breath, exhaling it into a hum before taking her hands. "Pick up where we left off?" I put it to her, my eyebrows raising high, while inside I was almost having a fucking coronary.

To be cont...

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I'm evil…  
Let me know what you think?  
MWAH, til next week xoxo**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Do you know disturbing it is to write a lemon while watching Toy Story 3? Okay, well this was already written, but I did edit it while watching Toy Story, and while my 7 year old daughter was looking over my shoulder trying to read it.  
Ugh...  
Anywho, Edward meets Buddy...  
**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 13**

**Edward's POV**

Last week:

_She broke my gaze, her smile becoming internal. "So," she began, smoothing down my shirt, before again meeting my eyes, "what are we going to do about all this?" _

_I took a breath, exhaling it into a hum before taking her hands. "Pick up where we left off?" I put it to her, my eyebrows raising high, while inside I was almost having a fucking coronary._

**...**

She tilted her head, as if she was thinking about it, only her broadening smile gave her away. "I wouldn't object to that."

The next several moments were a blur.

I remember letting go of my breath, letting it all go—all the pain, and anger—as I allowed myself to properly absorb everything, feeling slightly off balance—okay a lot fucking off balance. All I could do, all I could comprehend, was the fact that I couldn't stop grinning, while her smile steadily grew, turning warm—and slightly cynical like it used to—and then she was kissing me.

Or, I was kissing her.

I'm not sure who initiated it, her or me, but I became too overwhelmed by her too fast and practically pushed her over backwards. In the next moment I hoisted her up, sitting her on top of the booth table, when she locked her legs around my hips, anchoring me to her, and almost bringing me physically undone.

I was immediately struggling—overrun and struggling with complete sensory overload. My skin felt charged, and I was becoming engulfed by an energy, both physical and emotional, that was quickly growing beyond my control. I felt like my chest was going to burst open and I was going to fucking cry and come at the same time. My heart was pounding behind my ribs, and I could barely breathe, but all I could taste and feel—and fucking conceive—was her. Every part of her was flooding my senses, reconnecting me with them—reconnecting me with her.

Six years might have passed since the last time I kissed her, but right now it was irrelevant, as if all that time had meant nothing—as if I'd never experienced a day of the fucking anguish I'd felt without her. This feeling of her lips merged with mine, her mouth open to me—the warmth of her breath inundating me, the softness of her face against mine, and the feel and temperature of her skin as it increased by the impact of my body heat—it erased all of it.

With one of my hands bracing us on the table top, the other was around her face. I couldn't trust it to be anywhere else—while hers remained clamped around the front of my shirt. This was despite the fact that at some point I had all but laid her back against the table and was practically flush on top of her, leaning all my weight against her.

"Edward..." she uttered breathlessly, turning her head so my lips were suddenly pressed into the soft skin of her cheek.

I blinked, slowly, sluggishly, tuning in fully to what we were actually doing; instantly becoming aware of the rushed sound of our breathing echoing around the empty restaurant, and the burning hot, aroused energy which had all but completely conquered me.

Had I overstepped—was I even in fucking control?

I stood up immediately, pulling her upright on the table as I did. "Bella—I … shit… I'm sorry," I blurted, feeling my erection immediately deflate as panic shifted my mindset.

She only broke into a small smile, pushing it through her nose as she did. "You still apologize as much as you always did," she teased me, before taking a deep breath and releasing it. "It's just ... maybe we should go somewhere more … appropriate."

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes burning and endless. I was almost lost in them for a moment, feeling the smile tug at my lips as my body relaxed and then reacted to her words as if I was outside of my consciousness for a moment.

"Yeah…" I agreed, nodding, before gently helping her down off the table, and almost fucking swaying.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, straightening herself out, before she began to button up my shirt.

I had no idea she—or I—had even attempted to take it off.

"The Pacific Inn," I answered, "but, Bella, I'm not taking you to some trashy hotel."

"We can go back to my place," she suggested, as she smoothed out my shirt.

"Do you still live with your uncle?" I asked, five seconds before groaning inwardly, and pushing the heel of my palm against my brow.

That was the stupidest fucking thing that had come out of my mouth in years, but I was still stuck in the past. I had to remind myself that she wasn't eighteen anymore.

"Um…" she began softly, the amusement clearly in her tone, before she laughed lightly, "no…"

"Sorry," I mumbled as she coaxed my hand away from my face. "Too much time has passed."

"It has…" she agreed, the smile on her face fading momentarily, before it returned and grew broad. "I kind of miss you climbing through my bedroom window at 2am—when I lived with my uncle."

With my grin returning and mirroring hers, I scoffed it shortly beneath my breath. "Jesus ... those were the days…"

"Weren't they," she agreed, her smile appearing to become lost in her thoughts for a moment, before she immediately broke my gaze. "Let me just grab my jacket."

There was a time half way through senior year when I thought I'd pushed her too far—I can't even recall what we were fighting about now—but she hadn't spoken to me in five weeks, and becoming desperate, I drove to her house in the middle of the night. I'd scaled the tree in front of her bedroom, but she wouldn't open her window for me—even as I yelled to her that I was slipping. Of course, she immediately opened it after I'd lost my grip and thudded to the ground—breaking my collar bone clean in half, which then pierced through my skin—gazing down at me with fear widening her eyes.

She'd driven me to the Emergency Room fighting with her concern for me, and the fact that she was still pissed off, while I couldn't even breathe without mind numbing pain. Her uncle never found out, but since Carlisle was on duty that night, I was immediately busted.

Mom, having given up grounding me, took my car keys for a month—this was on top of once again being benched due to injury, just when we'd made the semi-finals. Every bastard was pissed at me, and I was lucky I'd done so much damage to myself because I don't think anything less would have made Bella forgive me. But then she went and felt all guilty over everything and completely spoiled me in ways I didn't deserve. On top of this she left her window unlocked from then on; I climbed through it a few times, and not only when we were fighting.

How we managed it without ever getting caught is anyone's guess. We'd had a few close calls, though. I still got high blood pressure just thinking about the time I hid, stark naked, under her bed, while her uncle accompanied her to the bathroom as she faked a stomach ache.

Just yesterday those memories would have shredded me…

She disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later wearing a beanie, scarf and coat, and carrying an expensive handbag. I knew it was expensive because it was the same kind Kate had always pestered me into buying her. Of course, there was no way I was ever going to spend so much money on a patch of leather—for Bella on the other hand…

"Expensive..." I commented, tucking her scarf into her coat, and immediately feeling like the asshole I was as I fought my thoughts from probing deeper—on who had given it to her.

She only glanced up at me, her forehead puckering. "Huh?"

"Uhh ... your purse…" I mumbled awkwardly, my hand running to the back of my head.

"Oh," she replied in understanding, her tone full of surprise—that I knew what kind of a purse it was, I was guessing. "Yeah, Charlie bought it for me for my last birthday," she explained, bringing it to her nose and inhaling. "I tell everyone it's fake"—she chuckled shortly—"I don't know ... it seems pretty gluttonous to me. I love the smell of it, though."

We headed for the front entrance, and as I was internalizing my self-hatred—over what a jealous prick I sounded like—she suddenly nudged me. "Buy one for your girlfriend, did you?"

I figured she wanted to come across as casual, but her eyes completely contradicted her; at least, when she let me see them, that is.

"No," I admitted, deciding to be honest—as awkward as all fuck that I knew it would be, "but she wanted me to buy her one." Jesus it was worse than awkward—I immediately felt like I'd betrayed her. "I dunno…" I mumbled as a half assed conclusion, half shrugging and feeling fucking criminal.

She took a deep breath and released it, her face relaxing, while her expression remained almost … injured. "Edward … it's okay. It's been five and a half years—I didn't expect you to remain celibate."

She stretched up to unlock the door, but again I intercepted her, reaching over to unlatch it; unable to rid the frown from creasing my forehead.

Celibate was far from what I'd been; in fact, a man-whore douche-bag didn't even seem to cut it. I was actually fucking lucky I hadn't contracted anything—or had some love child out in the world somewhere. But I'd craved it, not because I was a horny, misogynistic prick, but because in that final moment of release what we once had, what I once felt with her, washed over me; taking all the fucking heartache away with it in those few seconds.

It was the only time I ever allowed myself to really feel.

"Yeah ... I know..." I said in agreement, but the guilt continued to plague me.

"Hey," Bella suddenly turned squarely to me, grabbing one of my hands in her mittened one, "I forbid you to feel guilty about any of this, Edward. What was done to us was _beyond shitty_. It..." she faltered, abandoning it, shaking her head lightly to herself, before adding, "Okay?"

"Okay," I conceded, breaking into a small begrudging grin.

With her smile returning, despite it having a raw fucking edge to, she reefed open the door to let us out, almost convulsing from the cold as she did.

It was snowing. I remember the first time Bella had seen the snow here. She cried.

"Rach c-called me today," she explained, trembling, as she attempted to push the key into the lock. "It's 46 o-over there."

"Here…" I said softly, taking the key from her to lock the doors, and smiling to myself as she stood beside me, ice cold with her teeth chattering.

I was barely registering the weather; my body heat had surged so much over the last half hour I was still suffering the effects of it, but Bella was—as much as she always was—one step from hypothermia.

Without another thought I pulled her against me, rubbing her back and arms, as the snow floated all around us, and while Bella curled herself into me, quivering uncontrollably. And for one single moment time seemed to freeze—as freaking cliché as it sounded, and I half expected Bella to tell me I was being cheesy or corny, like she used to, but she just stood there pressed against me, in the snow in front of her restaurant.

She eventually pulled out of it, blowing her breath into her wool covered hands, her nose red, and her cheeks flushed, before she smiled, kind of drunkenly—or maybe I was just seeing her through drunken eyes.

"Okay, I'll drive; you f-follow," she explained, stuttering, and for a moment I just gazed at her blankly before coherency kicked in.

"Oh—yeah, okay. Do you live in town?"

"Just outside o-of," she answered, grabbing her keys out of my hand with a quick grin before turning to head toward the only car left in the lot, apart from mine: a red Grand Cherokee. It was the same model and color she drove in high school; only newer.

I trailed behind her traveling north out of Forks for about ten minutes, before turning down a winding drive to a white timber house which seemed to be situated in the middle of nowhere. The porch light came on as well as several others around the roof of the house, and for a moment I was worried she had roommates, before I realized they were sensor activated.

She parked her car in a garage behind the house, before walking back around toward me when she stopped and suddenly called out, "BUDDY!"

And before the words were barely out of her mouth she was practically barreled over by a … Golden Retriever.

I watched as the excited dog greeted her before its focus instantly shifted and it came racing towards me.

I almost backed away, but quickly realized it was only curious about me. I let him sniff my hand, scratching him behind the ear as he did, before he jumped up—almost knocking me backwards—and started licking my face.

"Fantastic guard dog, isn't he?" Bella said warmly, chuckling, as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Buddy—down!"

The dog immediately obeyed her, sniffing my hand one last time before taking his place beside her as we walked toward the porch.

"He's great," I replied, smiling to myself. The dog obviously loved her as much as I did.

"Charlie insisted I get m-myself a dog, considering I'm p-pretty isolated out here—but I think he meant something l-like a German Sheppard," she explained, continuing to stutter from the cold, before grabbing her keys from her purse. "Anyway I w-was driving to work one day and saw a m-man with a box of puppies holding up a 'for sale' sign ... and it was l-love at first sight."

"I think it's mutual," I murmured as I stood beside her while she unlocked the front door.

"He's a big ball of moosh," she said with obvious affection, holding open the door for me.

I stepped inside being further inspected by Buddy, while the first thing I noticed about her house was that it was warm—a little too warm. So warm I knew immediately it would quickly become uncomfortable for me.

"Buddy, go play," she instructed him, patting his back before she stepped ahead of me and started flicking on lights.

The second thing I noticed was how neat and tidy everything was, but this didn't surprise me at all. Bella was always neat to the point of being anal, and I remember Garrett once telling me, that with Bella's history, it was probably her way of feeling like she had some kind of control over her life.

"So ... this is my house," she said, half mumbling, her expression turning almost sheepish, before she took off her scarf and hung it on the coat rack that was just inside the door.

"It's ... you," I teased her gently, almost chuckling when she flashed me that cynical look of hers, before I carefully helped her out of her coat.

Jesus, my palms were already secreting the freaking Atlantic Ocean.

"It's too warm in here, isn't it?" she asked turning back to me, concern suddenly reflecting in her eyes, and before I could answer her she began adjusting the thermostat, smiling almost secretively to herself. "People are always telling me my heating is up too high, and ... I don't want you to melt."

I only grinned, exhaling past it. "I always melted, and you always froze," I commented—too softly again, but my heart was really beginning to pound, and together with the emotion coursing through me, I was becoming too compromised.

And I couldn't even begin to comprehend what we'd come to her house to do, but at the same time it was all I wanted to focus on. I just didn't want to do, or say anything that would push her away; I still had no idea how much she'd changed—if at all—over the last six years.

But, fuck me, I wanted her body and soul. I wanted that physical connection with her, but I also wanted the emotional one. I wanted to be able to feel again. To feel her, and to remember how it used to feel to be with her.

Her smile turned tender, her tone echoing it. "You always kept me warm, though."

My smile broadened—despite the fact that I was constantly fighting the urge to, so I didn't come off as insane—and I took a step closer to her, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She glanced down for a moment, and when she again met my eyes, hers were suddenly drowning to the point she looked incredibly vulnerable again.

"Edward…" she said, barely a whisper; the audible equivalent of what her eyes were expressing, and just as my heart paused, she confessed, "I haven't done this … in a while."

For a second time her eyes broke from mine, while a small frown knotted her brow.

Tentatively, I cupped my palm to her cheek, tilting her head a fraction to again meet her gaze. "Awhile…?"

I immediately wondered why I'd asked her that. I really didn't want to know, after all—let alone focus on it.

Her frown deepened, before her eyes flickered from mine, regardless of the fact that I held her face angled to me. "A while," she repeated, mumbling.

Jesus, nothing had changed—not a damn thing. She was cold, I was hot; she was fucking pure and innocent, while I was a man-whore douche. She was a living angel, while I had once faced God and told him to fuck himself.

We were always completely opposite—oil and water—we had nothing in common, and our personalities clashed more often than not, but she was still the matching half of my very existence.

"Bella, look at me," I instructed her. When she did, reluctantly—looking awkward and more and more unsure of herself—I continued, "You _know_ me. I'm still that bad tempered asshole of a guy that used to drive you nuts"—she broke into a small, knowing smile—"I promise you, you've got nothing to worry about."

And again she rested her forehead against my chest as a weary sounding breath was expelled from her. "You have no idea how much I've missed that bad tempered guy…"

Dropping my face to the top of her head, I enclosed her in my arms. "Well ... I have some idea," I murmured against her hair.

Taking another gushing breath, she raised her head, and in one motion her lips caught mine, completely surprising me, before she stretched herself up on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing herself against me. Her hands ran through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it while her mouth, her lips—her breath, quickly consumed me.

I felt delirious, almost losing my balance and practically crashing the both of us against the wall, completely lost in her, while the rapid beat of my heart echoing in my ears began to drown out the urgent sound of our breathing, and of our lips as they connected and reconnected repeatedly.

I was groping her, but fuck if I could help it. I was desperately craving her body beneath my palms—to feel her again, to know her again—when she suddenly pulled out of it. It was so sudden it almost crippled me—a fucking strangled, pain-ridden sound uttering from me—but then without a word, and with her eyes locked to mine, dark and endless, she grabbed my shirt and led me, walking backwards, toward the stairs.

I lasted maybe half way up when my resistance snapped. My hand ran to the back of her neck, where I fastened her mouth to mine before, with her in my arms, and without our lips severing, I turned around and anchored her against the wall.

Fuck, my body was literally alive and buzzing, but at the same time, I was in almost physical pain from the sheer magnitude of desire and arousal that was plowing through me. My skin was ignited by the warmth of hers against me, fueled further by the raw sound of her breathing—which almost seemed to become words. But she was also trembling—or maybe it was me.

All I knew was that I wouldn't be able to contain this eruption building within me for much longer, but I was all too happy to surrender to it.

I managed to get my hands beneath her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, where she had to push against me to allow me to get it completely off her, before I engulfed her back to me.

I was rough—I knew I was being rough—but my mind was lagging behind my body, with barely any rationality breaking through. It was all physical, it was all emotional and it was all-fucking-consuming that I was reacting on almost impulse alone.

Bella didn't seem concerned by it, but I was fast becoming conscious of the size of her in my arms. She was so much smaller than Kate—than any other girl I'd ever been with since her—but that had been deliberate, and now the contrast was blaring; making it all the more real, affecting me that little bit more.

This was Bella—gorgeous, teeny tiny—all of 159 centimeters of her—Bella.

I broke away and pulled back, almost forcefully, my chest heaving, my dick pounding, and almost fucking sobbing. I tried to talk but as I attempted to rein in my breath, I was stuttering, while suddenly fighting an all-encompassing emotion.

"Where … w-which … tell … m-me … bell-a… I-I…" I stammered, incoherently. I was crashing, the emotion was burning through me, and my brain had completely disconnected.

Jesus, had I forgotten to breathe? Whatever the hell it was, I was falling apart.

Bella only laughed, softly, breathily, before cupping her hand to the side of my face. "I know..." she whispered in complete understanding, bending closer to press her lips to the base of my neck before pulling back again to meet my eyes.

She was still trembling, but then she was standing before me topless, apart from a black satin bra.

Stepping on the stair alongside her, I encircled her in my arms and held her against me for a moment, becoming completely aware of what was happening to me. The fucking floodgates were opening, and everything I had tried to deny, everything I'd tried to suppress, over the last six years was pouring out.

And my fucking hands were shaking outside of my control.

"Christ..." I uttered, almost in disbelief, as I dragged them back through my hair.

Taking my hands in hers, she moved back, stepping further up on the stairs so she was on eye level with me, before pausing. "You're still exactly the same," she said softly, while an almost wistful smile broke across her face.

"Is … that a good thing?" I asked her, my voice wavering and almost failing. Fucking hell, I was exhausted all of a sudden, and all I wanted to do was to lay my head against her breast and abandon everything.

She nodded. "It's a good thing ... and"—her expression suddenly turned teasing—"are you _taller_?"

"Uh ... I'm not sure about that one," I answered, a grin forming across my face the more her smile turned all-knowing, until she was softly laughing.

"What…?" I queried, my lips twitching as I fought the urge to laugh along with her.

She released one of my hands to place her palm against her forehead, her eyes closing briefly. "It's just hard to get my head around." She shook her head to herself. "I mean, _yesterday_…" But she left it unspoken, and I understood her completely.

Again, I stepped up beside her, turning her against the wall. "Yesterday..." I began, my voice turning husky, "everything sucked because you weren't in my life."

She only stared up at me for a moment, her smile beginning to fade. "You always did have a way with words," she teased me, before her tone turned serious, "but yesterday did suck—it sucked a lot."

I brought my hand to her cheek, my knuckles grazing over her cool, soft skin, while my heart reacted to the very pain I had endured, suddenly reflecting in her eyes. "None of it—the last six years—meant _anything_ ... without you, Bella," I confessed, my voice choking over the words.

And for one endless moment I thought she was going to cry, and if she did it would fucking cripple me, but pulling herself back from the brink, she grabbed my shirt in both her fists and pulled me closer to her, her eyes fused to my chest. She only nodded as she quite obviously fought her emotions, before she stretched on her toes, trying to close the height difference between us and not even coming close. "Cheeseball," she teased me again, her voice softly catching, while her eyes, locking with mine again, were freaking eternal.

I broke into an immediate grin, exhaling shortly through my nose as I dipped my face closer to hers. "Sap."

She curled her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me toward her, but pausing when her nose came into contact with mine. "Cornball," she whispered, and just as her eyes closed, I pulled her to me and merged my lips against hers.

We were flipping between the physical and emotional, and being torn right down the center, because that's how it always was with us; one always came with the other. I'd never had sex with her without telling her I loved her, and she never kissed me—fooled around with me—without letting me know that it always went deeper, that it always meant something more.

After losing ourselves on the stairs a few more times—and after a moment where we almost came close to succumbing to each other against the wall, Bella eventually tore herself free from me, grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom. I followed her on shaky, unsteady legs, completely intoxicated by her and the level of arousal that was flooding me.

The moment we stepped inside her room, Bella released my hands, grabbing the front of my shirt, and unbuttoned it as she moved backwards, continuing to pull me toward her bed.

The room was dim, almost dark—the only light coming from downstairs—and so, just as Bella had completely unbuttoned my EMS shirt, she broke away to turn on one of her bedside lamps. When she turned back she seemed to hesitate, her brow quirking, before a small smirk lit up on her face.

For a moment I was confused, before with her smile turning inward, she ran her palms across my bare chest to further part my shirt. "You have a Southern Cross tattoo…?"

"Oh … yeah…" I mumbled, almost self-consciously, drawing her into my arms again. "I got it when I turned twenty-one"—I pressed my lips against her forehead before elaborating—"It's for the piece of Australia who will always belong in my heart."

Wrapping my arms securely around her, I hoisted her up, just as she reacted; the air shooting from her nose. "You're _so _sweet"—her hands came to cup both sides of my face, before she pressed her parted lips briefly against mine—"so sweet and _completely _cheesy," she murmured, again laughing lightly through her nose, before kissing me again, deeper and more intensely, taking me quickly down with her; making me forget the smile that had formed on my lips in reply.

Fuck, how I missed being called _cheesy_.

Blinded with her in my arms, I took a step only for my knees to hit the end of her bed. I fell forward, dropping her in the middle of it and crashing heavily on top of her. She didn't react other than to snake her hands around my neck and into my hair, anchoring me to her, while I fumbled aimlessly, hastily, with her bra; eventually unclasping it and sliding it off her shoulders.

I curled her against me, happy to lose myself in her mouth for the moment; to feel her naked chest pressed against mine; to feel her heavy, rapid breath wash repeatedly over me, and hearing in it the very desire that was echoing through me.

I was already so hot I was slipping against her, making her skin damp and pliable in my hands as I ran them over her, between our bodies and over her breasts before down her stomach to the edge of her jeans. Slipping my fingers beneath them, I knew we'd have to pull apart to get them off her, and as if immediately understanding, she severed her lips from mine allowing me to move down to remove her jeans before I clumsily yanked off my pants. She kept her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me back the instant she was free from them; guiding me flush on top of her naked, burning hot body and curling her legs around me.

I was really becoming worried by how long I could hang on—this moment had been porn for me over the last six years, after all. And even now with her beneath me, completely naked and merging her body with mine, drowning in her scent, and the taste of her on my lips, it was almost too hard to comprehend. I still wasn't convinced it wasn't just a dream; though, I usually woke up well before this point, and in my dreams Bella was always frozen at eighteen. Not this woman she was now.

This woman with the rock hard abs, who was completely conquering me—in every sense of the word.

She kissed me again, and we were both so wired it was rushed, heated, and almost clumsy as I shifted my body against hers, before grabbing the back of her knee, I slipped into her, roughly.

Every muscle in her body instantly tensed, encasing every inch of me, before her breath rushed from her—while I practically choked and came then and there. I was hanging on by a thread—it was becoming torture. My entire body was crying out for release so intensely I was beginning to quake trying to hold it in.

Needing to take it down, I paused, pulling back to break from her lips and meet her eyes. They were dark and burning, her cheeks ruddy, as a gentle—but completely fucking overrun—smile slowly broke across her face.

I could only smile back in response, my heart fucking bursting, but it was the distraction I needed. Sliding my nose against hers, I pressed my lips momentarily to hers before again pulling back to gaze at her.

"You okay…?" I asked, my voice so strained it was breaking up.

She nodded, her smile broadening a fraction and becoming affectionate. "I'm okay."

Resting my lips to her brow, I let the air gush from my lungs. "Just give me a moment..." I fessed up, which only seemed to increase the width of her smile, before she took a breath, letting it out into a barely audible hum—and I swore it sounded like she'd whispered my name along with it.

For a moment we remained in this awkward fucking position where her muscles—that she'd never had before—kept me locked to her, while I talked myself down from the edge. Or maybe it was only awkward for me, because slowly she began to plant her lips to my jaw, and then my neck, running the tip of her nose down my skin.

It ignited the spark within me again, and was all it took for my restraint to snap. I moved into her, cautiously at first, shuddering with each motion, and becoming inundated by her; inundated by her body that I hadn't known for such a long time, by the way she kissed me and wrapped herself around me, completely receptive to every movement I made, bringing me to the edge again—far too quickly.

I let it go, completely losing myself in her; in the feel of her skin against mine, warm and soft—but hard at the same time, in a way I had never known in her; in the sound of her quickening breath and hammering heart; as she gripped me tighter, and tighter, before finally uttering my name in a breathless voice that sounded full of pain and anguish, her body flushing hotter and becoming rigid, before she burst into tremors.

I lasted not two seconds longer, before I was literally hit by a tsunami of senses that tore me in every direction, completely shredding me.

Collapsing on top of her I fought to take a breath, feeling myself again come apart. I wanted to just surrender to fucking sobbing while my entire body was a current of energy, feeling more alive than it had in years. At the same time, with Bella beneath me, quivering, seemingly uncontrollably, my heart felt like it was breaking open just as it was beginning to come back together.

Pressing my lips to her clammy forehead, I carefully rolled my weight off her, pulling her against my chest and turning the two of us to the side. Despite the fact that she was shaking beyond control, her body was completely relaxed in my arms—even as the momentum of her heart rocked her from the inside out.

She smiled, all warm and goofy, but with that—fast becoming familiar—raw kind of emotion lighting up from within her, and I quickly realized this was what I had noticed at the restaurant; what was so different about her. She'd been altered forever by the last six years; the same as I had.

I only returned her smile, softly, before resting my lips on top of her damp head and closing my eyes with a deep, shuddering sigh.

She continued to shake long after our bodies cooled, but despite it she seemed fine as she ran her fingers absently along my chest, kissing my neck tenderly and repeatedly. But she didn't stop, even after I wrapped the two of us beneath the blankets on her bed.

"Are you cold, baby?" I asked her, and that was all it seemed to take for her to break.

Suddenly overcome, she burst into tears, taking one huge, gasping sob after another while her body spasmed along with them.

"Hey ... hey..." I said gently, immediately anxious.

She only shook her head, her sobs increasing, seeming inconsolable.

I hadn't heard her cry like this in years—not since the night of Kel's funeral, and it wasn't easy to witness.

I cradled her against me, running my hands over her back and through her hair, soothing her as best as I could, as the anger inevitably began to swell within me again—anger, because I was still unable to deal with seeing her so vulnerable.

"I-I'm o-kay, E-Edward," she uttered, her chest jerking and shuddering through her tears. "I-I j-just n-need t-to c-cry."

She was so adorably pitiful, but it was really fucking breaking my heart.

Sitting us up against her headboard, I reached over to her side table and grabbed a box of tissues. Wiping her hair from her wet and blotchy face, I attempted to dry her tears, while gingerly peeling her hands away from her eyes.

"Talk to me, Bella," I coaxed her, gently.

"I-I never c-cried when you left—I c-couldn't," she explained, stumbling to speak, as she clumsily wiped her face with the tissues I'd placed in her hand.

_When I left... _I thought bitterly.

It was really beginning to piss me off, but I knew I had to distract her, so taking a different tactic, I took a breath, humming with it lightly. "You needed Rach to get you drunk…" I teased her.

She expelled this sound that was almost half way between a laugh and a sob. "You wouldn't have been there to hold my hair when I threw up."

"I'm not sure I'd want to, anyway," I murmured jokingly, pressing my face into the top of her head. "That was pretty fucked up."

She did laugh this time, softly and breathily, before nudging me. "Stop it."

I chuckled along with her, muffling it against her hair and pulling her further into my arms, as she released a momentous sounding breath and seemed to relax more into me.

I understood it was a purge she needed—something I knew I'd eventually have to withstand—but it didn't make it any easier for me; in fact, it only made me a whole lot angrier.

It would have to be something pretty fucking significant before I would ever forgive my mother—or Alice—for doing this to her.

For doing this to me.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, if you haven't already guessed this is as smutty as I get. Less adjectives, more to the imagination. I don't want to know about bodily fluids, let alone write about them, and we all know what erectile phase has to be in effect before it can all work. So yeah...  
And, FYI, Bella's expensive purse is a Hermes Birkin. It's my dream bag, and something my husband will not buy for me :(**

**Anywho, let me know your thoughts, because as much as I say I don't mind if you lurk, I really do like getting reviews.  
Til next week.  
MWAH xoxo**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Okay, here's the thing. I decided to completely change the direction of this fic, and then of course, lost my mojo smack bang in the middle of it. Why did I do this, you ask? Because I am clearly a lunatic, and a masochist and all that jazz. What was originally meant to happen was Bella was going to get pregnant and her and Edward were going to get married and tra la la la la off into the sunset, while also forgiving Alice and Esme. I'm not saying that still won't happen, but it was way too simple and cheesy for my liking and it needed more.  
I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the constant patience, re: my updating record.  
MWAH xoxo**

* * *

**Because of You  
Chapter 14**

**Bella's POV**

I didn't sleep very well the first couple of nights—for a couple of reasons. One was because Edward and I did everything _but _sleep.

That first night we stayed awake and talked; we talked so much I ended up in tears several times, but by this point I had no idea what over any more. It was just so enormously overwhelming I could barely process it. Edward was back, and everything I thought I had known had been lies. He'd never moved to California, or met anyone else, and he'd never sent Alice to break up with me on his behalf. He'd been living in Seattle, just three and a half hours from me, existing through the same shroud of lies that I had been. Lies invented to keep us apart.

And for six years they had succeeded.

Naturally, the other thing we did was have sex—a lot of it. I want to say we made love, but that sounds too one-dimensional. We made a lot of things—love being only a singular aspect of it. Physically we had always been in tune with each other. In that retrospect we had always made sense. It had always felt as if just the physical act of connecting with each other was the only way to unscramble our days and put everything in the right order again. It was probably the reason why we tended to have sex almost every day when we were seniors and during that first half-year in college. Sometimes it was all that could calm that constantly brewing storm that existed between the two of us.

In any case, we had so much sex I'd lost count; though, if I recalled the places it became easier. The shower: twice, the bed: four times, the kitchen table: once, against the wall: once...

Edward and I fit, we always had—despite the ten inches of height difference between us. We synced, and after I always felt tangibly charged up by him.

This was one of the _other_ reasons why I didn't get much sleep.

The last reason was because what little sleep I did manage was always interrupted by a sudden fear that it had all been a dream. It had woken me several times over the last two nights, and this time, just like all the times previously, I bolted upright in bed, clutching at my chest, my heart thumping in sudden panic as I glanced around in the darkness for him.

I caught the scent of him before I saw him—that woody, rustic smell of his overly warm—almost damp—body beside me. The same scent that still lingered on the t-shirt I'd kept from our life together in my college apartment in Seattle.

For a moment I just stared at him in what little illumination the half concealed moonlight gave off. This man beside me.

He was asleep on his back, and when I'd woken I'd caused him to stir. He mumbled something unintelligent—the only thing I could make out was my name—before he reached up and dragged his hand back through his hair. This mannerism of his that he did even in his sleep—even now when his hair was so short. I had forgotten all about it; a memory that had become lost in the grief of the last six years, while reminding me again that while Edward had aged, what I loved about him most was still here.

He was still so ruled by his heart, and dominated by his emotions; even after two days with him it was evident. He could speak the sweetest, goofiest things, but the expression that would encompass his face, and ingrain in his eyes revealed a thousand times more. A single frown, or smile could convey the very depth of his soul, but then just as quickly his anger could get hold of him. And when he got angry the boy I once knew came straight back to the present, through the man he now was. The anger his mother always believed I brought out in him—that it was a manifestation of how unhealthy the two of us were. But if she'd ever understood her own son she would have realised that it was just who he was.

_Everything_ Edward felt was heightened in him, and it was never hard to read him—obviously something that was lost on his mother and sister. It was one of the things I loved most about him, but at the same time it was the most detrimental to our relationship. It always brought out a sense of turmoil in me; something I had difficulty dealing with. It was one of the reasons why we fought so much. He was often too emotionally charged for me, and I reacted badly to it. I always carried around a constant anxiety for him, and I spent the majority of my life more concerned for him than I was myself. It rebounded in me tenfold, so when he was angry, I was angrier, and while I was never the recipient of his anger, he was often the recipient of mine.

It was obvious now how out of depth the both of us were. His mother was right in that sense; we were both too young to really comprehend the magnitude of what we meant to each other. Edward could be my entire world, and at the same time, cause it to all come crashing down around me.

Perhaps there had been a method to their madness. Perhaps Edward and I both needed to grow up to really understand each other.

It's not that I didn't understand him when I was eighteen—I did, a little too much. It's just that I was so emotionally stunted that I struggled to process _his _emotions, let alone my own.

I still felt everything he did, and I hated to see him so angry, but I was able to separate it now, and react to him and not his anger. It was something I had just been beginning to learn that first year of college—how to exist in harmony with him. When we grew it was with each other, and as we grew we were slowly carving a road through the cataclysm that had been our lives; something that had threatened to tear us apart multiple times, but in reality, had only fused us closer together.

At the same time Edward appeared more in control of his emotions than I'd ever known him to be. It's not that he'd become a different person, but rather, through a natural progression of maturing, he'd finally developed enough restraint to not let it dictate him.

He'd grown into this man without me, and as much as I was worried he would be a stranger to me now, I realised that he was still very much that same boy who'd taught me how to live outside the shadow of my mother. The same boy who'd helped me discover who I was.

With my eyes breaking from him, I reached over and picked up my iPhone from the bedside table, checking the time; it was 3:30am. Edward had set his alarm for four o'clock, to get back to Seattle in time for work. We'd both called in sick the day before—not that I had to explain anything to Ang, but Edward had told his boss he had food poisoning, explaining to me that it was the first time he'd taken a day off since he'd started working there three years ago. He'd been doing the same thing I had; doing anything he could to distract himself...

I had this grinding ache in my chest at the thought of him leaving again, but his life was still in Seattle, and mine was in Forks...

Before I could prevent it, my eyes welled with tears, and bending down I planted my lips to his torrid, naked shoulder, inhaling in that musky, salty scent of his skin as I did.

"Bella..." he began, his voice husky in his sleepiness, "you're still a terrible sleeper." And although I couldn't see it in the darkness, his tone eluded to the smile that was growing across his face.

I only smiled affectionately in response, quickly pushing it through my nose, before snuggling back against him.

Rolling to the side, he wrapped his heavy arm around me, pulling me further to him, before I felt the tenderness of his lips against my temple.

"Bad dreams?" he murmured, running his lips and nose down the side of my face, stopping below my ear before he again planted his lips to my skin.

Inhaling deeply, I released it, humming softly in reply, before pressing my face into his chest, taking in that woodiness of him once more.

"Close your eyes, baby," he instructed me, gently, before releasing his breath and enshrouding me in warmth.

So, I did, wrapped up in his arms, my naked body pressed to his, my cheek resting against the soft downiness of his chest hair. And when I fell asleep again, it was with the unfathomable knowledge that Edward was right beside me.

An hour later we stood together on the front porch to say goodbye. It was snowing again, and the pre-dawn air was like ice, but ironically it was lost on me; all I could comprehend, as he pulled me into his arms, was how much my heart was breaking.

I knew it was ridiculous in light of the previous two days, and everything we'd shared, but I couldn't bear the thought of him being so far away from me.

"Drive carefully," I said softly once he'd released me, breaking my gaze from his to smooth down his work shirt, as my eyes welled in tears.

He looked so bloody handsome in it, too.

"I will…" he replied, his voice thick, before tipping my chin to guide my gaze back to his. And for a moment he just stared down at me, his forehead bridged, his eyes intensifying in their seriousness, before he spoke, "I'm never letting you go again."

I broke into a smile, only to feel it all too quickly become fractured. I could feel the emotion begin to choke me, and needing to bite down on my bottom lip to prevent the tears from spilling over, I grabbed his shirt in both my hands, pulling him to me to press my forehead against his chest. "You're still such a cheeseball," I teased him softly, my voice muffled behind the material of his shirt.

He laughed, it was warm and resonating, before he again cupped my face to angle it back to his. "Would you look at me, woman!"

I couldn't disguise my tears from him this time, and in response his smile turned tender; his expression almost becoming afflicted. "And you call me cheesy," he murmured, wiping my tears away with his thumbs.

"I can't stand that you'll be so far away, Edward," I admitted, my voice wavering and catching at the back of my throat.

"It's not that far," he replied softly, pulling my robe more securely around me, "but we'll work something out soon, okay?"

I had no idea what he meant, but I nodded in reply regardless, before letting go of my breath deeply—something Edward immediately imitated.

Breaking into a wry smile, I nudged him. "It's been six years and you're still mocking me."

He laughed again, more to himself and half beneath his breath.

"What am I going to do with you," I murmured, shaking my head a little.

"Come here," he muttered, pulling me to him again, and tilting my face back to kiss my lips tenderly, but briefly, before he rested his momentarily against my brow. "I never stopped loving you, Bella," he confessed after a moment.

This came close to breaking me in half. What we had always felt for each other was never disputed, but over the last two days, neither of us had brought it up. Until now.

Gripping his shirt again in my closed fists, I nodded. "I know..." I replied, my voice little more than a fractured sob, before I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I was positive he was taller!

Slipping his fingers beneath my robe, he wrapped his warm hands around my naked back, holding me firmly against him for a moment, before again drawing me back to press his lips to mine, and then again, and again...

"I'll come back soon," he promised me before completely releasing me, and then kissing me briefly on the forehead he let go of my hands and turned and walked down the porch steps, heading to his car.

I watched him go, with my arms wrapped around myself in part to protect myself from the cold and the other to stop myself from trembling. My body was still literally alive and tingling but at the same time I began to become engulfed with an almost suffocating panic, and watching him leave was only amplifying it.

I finally had him back—what if something happened to him?

I hadn't worried about Edward in years—in this sense, and I had almost forgotten how familiar it was, and how ingrained in our relationship it was.

Fortunately, when Edward said he'd be back soon, I had no idea how soon it would be.

How I survived work that day, I had no idea. My mind was elsewhere—it was unavoidable. As was Angela's constant vigil, and the all-knowing smirk on her face as she gauged me, while Sue regarded me with a quiet curiosity. But despite being aware of it, I still almost chopped off my fingers multiple times, not to mention, burn the meals, myself as well as my hair, mix up orders, and spill hot coffee over Jessica Crowley—but then I wasn't sure that last one wasn't deliberate.

Edward sent me several texts during the day, sweet, goofy little messages that had almost made me cry, but around 4pm they stopped. I finished at 5:30, and after closing I went home, fed buddy, then myself, and when I still hadn't heard from him, I got on the treadmill to distract myself.

I was thirty minutes into a ten mile run when I looked up and promptly stumbled over my feet—needing to grip the side rails to steady myself. Edward stood in the doorway to my basement, watching me and smiling secretly, more or less to himself.

"Edward!" I exclaimed, turning off the treadmill and grabbing the towel, that hung over the front of it, to wipe my face. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Bella. Your front door was unlocked," he explained, his eyes flickering away from mine momentarily.

Was he always this uncertain?

I waved my hand at him. "I mean _in Forks_, you dope."

"I ... couldn't stay away," he confessed, as though it was irrelevant, before his expression turned almost devilish. "Do you realise how hot you look right now?" He took a step closer to me.

I broke into a smirk, shaking my head lightly. "Really?"

"Jesus…" he said more or less to himself, his voice softening, and I didn't understand his meaning.

"What…?" I began, before he wrapped his arm around my waist and swooped me off the treadmill.

"Just … shut up…" he murmured, his forehead against mine, before covering my mouth with his and carrying me blindly upstairs to my room.

If we got two hours sleep that night, we were lucky, but good god how could any woman sleep after what Edward did to me? My nerve endings would be exploding for many a day to come, but still, at 4:30 the next morning, Edward and I parted again to partake in our current lives. Our lives that existed in different towns and cities—that were beginning to feel so very far away from each other.

Then, at 7:30 that night, he was back again.

It was Friday—the Friday before Alice and Jazz's wedding, and he had the weekend off. There would be no pre-dawn wake ups; especially since I wasn't going to the wedding. There was no way under the sun I was going—despite Alice actually sending me a text that morning asking me if I still was? I'd only stared at it for far too long, wondering if she was serious. In the end I ignored her. I didn't have words enough to express myself properly at the moment, and as ridiculously, blissfully happy as I was over Edward, I feared I would do something I'd regret. Like, forgive her.

I just assumed Edward would be going—since he was Jazz's best man—and so Friday night, I made sure he got enough sleep. Okay we had sex—twice—but as it was, after the last several days we were both practically dead on our feet, anyway.

I don't recall when I fell asleep—just that it was in Edward's sweaty, naked embrace, as I listened to the rapid beat of his heart—but when I woke the next morning, before my alarm for work, it was to the sound of his angry sounding voice.

It took me a few moments before coherency kicked in, when I realised he was arguing with Jazz on the phone—heatedly, and using several obscenities that I hadn't heard from him in a very long time.

When he came back in the room after, he was still fuming, but a part of him appeared resigned.

Leaning over me, he pressed his lips to mine briefly, but I could sense his tension, before I felt it. "Okay, I'm going, so I have to leave now to make it to Olympia in time."

And with that said, he sighed deeply and collapsed beside me on the bed, before groaning and pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

"Okay, but promise me something?" I asked him, wrapping my arm around his neck. He was rigid.

Turning, he nestled his nose against the side of my face, humming out his reply against my skin.

"Ignore Alice and your mother—just be there for Jazz. It's his wedding too," I reminded him, seriously.

He took another heavy breath, seeming to relax a fraction as he did. "I know..."

"And I want a photo of you in your tux," I added, my tone turning teasing.

He laughed softly through his nose. "I'll probably still be wearing it when I get back. You going to wait up for me?"

"I'll think about it," I whispered against his ear.

He groaned again, before heaving himself lazily off the bed. "Okay, I better get going—fuck me..."

"Tonight—if you're lucky," I teased him, deliberately dropping my voice.

When his eyes locked with mine, they narrowed, slyly, before he broke into a warm, knowing grin, chuckling softly beneath his breath. "All right…" he said heavily, running his hand back through his hair to rest at the nape of his neck, looking distracted all of a sudden, "but, I don't know how the hell I'm going to get through it without killing the lot of them."

Grabbing my robe from the end of the bed, I threw it around myself, before stretching myself up and wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

I didn't grow another millimetre, but he was at least an inch taller.

"Try not to be too much of a hell raiser," I said softly, kissing his stubbly neck briefly, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit how worried about him I was. I still had no way of knowing how he'd deal with his mother or Alice, and all I had to go by was the eighteen year old version of him. And eighteen year old Edward would not have blinked at telling his entire family, including his mother, to fuck themselves—at a wedding or otherwise.

After seeing him off at the porch again, making him promise me repeatedly to drive carefully, I went to shower and get ready for work. Saturdays I worked from 8:00 am until 10:30 pm, and when once they were a blessing, today I dreaded it. It would be fourteen hours of contemplating the 150 miles that separated us, while resenting Alice, once again, for stealing this day away from us.

I was just being lovesick and whimsical, I told myself, as I grabbed my coat and beanie before closing the front door behind me. Besides, I loved the restaurant, I further reminded myself, jamming the beanie on my head, just as I collided with a hard body.

"Hey, Jake," I reacted, smiling brightly up at him, after almost bouncing off him, only to immediately pause by the expression on his face. It was hard, and his usually warm, cheerful eyes were cold. "What…?" I began but abandoned it in my rapidly growing uncertainty.

"Tell me it's not true!" he demanded, his tone reiterating his demeanour; though, what he spoke wasn't a question.

"What's ... not true?" I asked, my voice almost wavering; though I knew exactly what he was referring to, but my reaction was stemmed more from confusion.

"Come on, Bella!" he snapped, sounding more irritated than I could comprehend. "You know what I'm talking about."

It only served to annoy me. "How is it any of your business, anyway?"

Folding his arms over his chest, he shrugged, his lips curving into almost a sneer. "It's not," he said simply, shrugging. "I just thought you were smarter than this."

"Don't be an asshole!" I burst, sharply. "You have no idea!"

He half rolled his eyes, snorting to himself. "Oh, yes I do. Ever since you met _Cullen _you let him treat you like a doormat—and I watched you, Bella. Every damn day I watched what he did to you, and here you are—after everything that happened, everything he _did_—just taking him back again."

I opened my mouth, drawing in my breath, ready to fight back at him, when I faltered, lowering my head to rest my brow in my palm for a moment. "Jake…" I said, quietly, before glancing up at him again. "I only found out a few days ago from Alice, that the last six years was a lie. His family lied to both of us, he—,"

He snorted again, loudly—arrogantly, effectively cutting me off. "Who are you trying to convince, Bella!? You can tell yourself whatever you want, but don't expect me to believe it!"

"Jake—dammit! Who the hell do you think you are?" I burst, but I was hurt more than anything, and my tone immediately gave me away—and I knew Jake was taking it as validation. "Edward never did _anything_ to you—other than years ago when his sister was dying and he punched you"—I was ranting now as he stood before me, his expression growing cynical—"everything else was between me and him, and pardon me, if I didn't include you in every detail, but you have no right to be judging me—or him!"

"Whatever," he replied, his tone low and bitter. "You want to do this to yourself, Bella, go right ahead, but I'm done with it." And with that he turned his back on me and trudged angrily through the snow back to his car.

I only stood on the porch, watching him leave, that familiar panic opening up in my heart again. Edward and I hadn't even been together a week and already it appeared that my own family was going to be against us—never mind that _his _had been from the very beginning.

With my entire being, I wanted to call Edward, to hear that reassuring tenderness in his voice, and remind myself that no matter how destructive we once were, my life had completely unravelled without him, and with every breath I took, I needed him. But I couldn't, because today he would be dealing with his own family, and I didn't want to burden him with mine on top of it.

Ironically, Jake's visit turned out to be more of a positive than I had presumed it would—in that I became so preoccupied by it, and the implications of every word he'd spoken, that time appeared to pass a lot quicker than it otherwise might have. Not to mention, I spent a lot less time worrying about Edward.

Naturally, I couldn't get much by Ang, and during our midday break, I confided in her what had happened that morning, as we sat in the small, secluded area behind the restaurant, in the chairs I'd set up for employees.

"What an ass!" she snapped in uncharacteristic impatience, splaying her hands over her pregnant belly, as if shielding her unborn baby from it. "B—you are a grown woman—we're not in high school anymore—and Jake needs to learn to respect the choices you've made."

"I know…" I began, sighing heavily, before dropping my head into my palm. "I don't want anything to ruin it—it just seems typical!"

"Don't let him ruin anything, B—promise me"— she placed her hand firmly on my shoulder, forcing me to meet her gaze; I only nodded sombrely in response. "B, the last few days ... you have come _alive_ again. Whatever the mess that happened in the past, it's obvious—you and Edward..." she left it unspoken; though, her eyes couldn't conceal it, and it immediately dispelled the sense of pessimism that had been growing within me all morning.

I only nodded again, I needed no words, and to just hear Angela validate me and Edward the way she had, made me immediately emotional. In return Ang nodded as well, slowly and in understanding, her smile turning wistful and knowing.

"I have a confession to make," she added, and before I could open my mouth to enquire, she continued. "That night Edward came to the restaurant, after I left I came back again—I was so worried about you, B," she quickly explained. "I knew it could only go two ways, and I pretty much expected it to go the way it did, but if it didn't ... I knew it would have broken you." Her tone softened in emphasis and again I only nodded. She knew me so well—better than Alice had ever done. "So, I came back just to make sure you were okay, and this is what I saw…" she broke off to pull her phone out of her purse, before opening an app, as I attempted to see what she was doing. A moment later she held it out for me to see.

At first it didn't register. It was a black and white photo posted to Angela's photography page on Facebook, of two people standing together in the snow…

I only continued to gaze at it, when it suddenly hit me.

It was me and Edward.

Me and Edward, half shrouded in silhouette from the nearby street light, surrounded by falling snow as we held onto each other. I drew in my breath; it was so intimate that a part of me was embarrassed, but at the same time it was ... immeasurable in what it captured. In fact, it was so similar to the one Rach had taken of Edward and me in Australia, when we were seventeen, and it was suddenly as if the two were validating one another. Piecing the two broken halves of us back together.

"It's amazing, huh?" Angela asked softly, breaking into my thoughts. "I saw the two of you like that together and I couldn't resist. My photographer's eye kicked in."

"It is," I agreed, becoming so choked all I could manage was a whisper. "And a little stalkerish," I added, teasing her, if only to get a handle on myself.

Angela laughed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders to nudge me. "B, there's always an aura to people, an energy. _This_ is what you and Edward project, and you don't need me to tell you that it's something special. So you hang on to him, B—no matter what Jake—or anyone—says."

"Oh, bloody hell, Ang!" I practically sobbed, bunching my brow to prevent myself from succumbing to tears altogether, as I turned to wrap my arms around her. "You're turning me into a puddle of water … but _thank you_."

"You're welcome," she replied, hugging me tighter, before releasing me to gaze back at the photo on the screen. "And look, out of all my photos, this one has the most likes."

She handed me her phone again, and this time I focused on what was written. It was dated February 9th 2015, titled as only "Edward and Bella", and indeed it had over a thousand _likes_—not to mention hundreds of comments. Comments from just about every Forks resident, not to mention from Nummi and Rach, and just like Jake, they were less than encouraging—reminding me instantly that I hadn't kept them informed. From Alice to Edward—none of it.

And obviously, like Jake—with only the lies of the last six years to go by—they believed I was making a terrible mistake.

"Don't worry, I messaged them both concerning the recent happenings," Angela assured me, as if reading my thoughts. "I figured you'd be ... _side-tracked_"—she broke into a small, shrewd smirk—"Rach was pretty _colourful," _she added, with more tact this time, before breaking off to chuckle. "She said Edward's balls were safe, but his sister's were in serious peril."

I laughed along with her, relieved for the most part that I didn't have to explain Edward and I to anyone else, and risk being accused of making excuses again, before my gaze once more focused on the photo. "This really is a beautiful photo, Ang. Can you send me a copy? I'll show Edward later tonight—he's gone to Alice and Jazz's wedding today."

Angela's expression immediately smoothed out into serious—albeit somewhat humorous—concern. "Oh God ... do you think it will make the 6 o'clock news?"

She knew Edward just as well, it seemed. At least, the Edward he once was, and just like that my thoughts switched back to him, and along with it, my fear for him, and the uncertainty I had for my once impulsive boyfriend.

He called me just after 4 pm, telling me he wasn't going to go the reception and he was heading back straight away.

"Was it that bad?" I asked, feeling my expression turn pained on his behalf.

"No," he sighed heavily into the receiver, "but it's a bit hard to wish your sister well when what you really want to do is murder her. And Jazz will defend her to the death, and I can't really knock the dick on his ass on his wedding day." His tone lightened at the end, causing me to break into a smile; though, I was relieved more than anything.

"Well, true," I replied. "I won't be finished until after ten, so come by the restaurant and I'll feed you."

"Will do, gorgeous," he said, his voice softening, and for the next several hours I was almost literally seeing stars.

But when he wasn't back by 7:30 I began to worry, and an hour and a half later when there was still no sign of him, I called my uncle to ask if there was any reason why the traffic would be slowed—or God forbid, if he knew of any incident on the roads.

The only problem was as soon as he answered my phone call he sounded resigned, as if he was expecting me.

"He's at the hospital, Bella—him _and_ Jake," he explained before I had a chance to utter a single syllable.

"What?" I answered, my heart immediately seizing in my chest, as my mind scrambled to make sense of what he was obviously trying to emphasise.

He sighed again, sounding weary. "His car broke down about ten miles south of Forks. He called in a tow, and Jake answered it. And well ... you of all people don't need me to explain the history behind those two..."

"Oh my god..." I whispered, slowly filling with dread, ahead of a growing anger. "What happened—what did he do to him?!"

"What happened is they beat the crap out of each other," he relayed, an edge to his tone this time. "Look, they're both fine, but you might want to get to the hospital—"

I didn't need to hear another word.

"I'm coming now," I interjected, before hanging up and turning to Sue—who was quite obviously eavesdropping on the conversation as she diced carrots beside me. "I've got to go—Edward and Jake ran into each other on the highway."

"Say no more, darl. Go!"

Sue, like Ang and Uncle Billy, and let's face it, the majority of Forks, needed no further explanation.

With Forks being as small as it was, I literally arrived at the hospital in five minutes.

"Edward—" I blurted to the triage nurse on duty at the service desk, before changing tactics. It was Lauren Mallory, after all, and the bitch had had an issue with me since high school. "My cousin was admitted not long ago."

"Sure, go ahead," she said, dryly, raising a mocking brow, letting me know she knew exactly who I was coming for, as she pressed a button on her end to unlock the doors to the E.R."

Flashing her a quick, sarcastic smile, I burst through the doors, and followed the sound of my uncle's impatient sounding voice. I found him in the examination room, lecturing Jake who was lying on a bed holding an ice pack over half his face—which had quite clearly taken a battering.

"Bella."

Edward!

I turned immediately to find him sitting up on a bed on the other side of the room from Jake, concealed by a half-closed curtain. He was still dressed in his tuxedo, but was mud splattered and drenched, while almost his entire face held traces of smeared blood, that had obviously been wiped away. It was in his hair, stained into his shirt, and oozing from both a cut over his left eye and his nose.

I only stared at him for a moment, unable to process what I was seeing or the barrage of emotion that was coursing through me, causing my heart to accelerate and my breath to quicken.

He smiled at me then. The same tenderness and warmth, as if he was inside my house, not sitting in the E.R beaten to a bloody pulp by my own cousin.

This is when I turned toward Jake again, becoming almost blinded by anger. I had no idea what I was going to do, but before I could take a single step, Edward jumped off the bed and grabbed me around the waist, needing to practically restrain me.

"God dammit, Jake!" was all I really recall yelling out, before Edward engulfed me against his chest.

"Bella, it's okay. It's okay, baby," he attempted to soothe me. "This needed to happen—I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, Bella," Jake's remorseful sounding voice suddenly joined Edward's.

And recalling my anger, I pulled out of Edward's arms and again turned to him. He'd removed the ice pack this time, revealing a horridly swollen, purple eye, while his cheekbone bore a cut similar to the one on Edward's eye.

I only glared at him for several seconds, feeling the anger and disgust peak within me. "It's best if you don't talk to me right now, Jake," I replied, my voice stony, but flat and emotionless.

"I'd listen to her if I was you, Jacob," Uncle Billy reiterated, as I turned my attention back to Edward.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, feeling so shredded by guilt that it was barely audible.

"You're apologising," he teased me gently, and managing way too much charm.

I didn't know how he could joke about it when I was feeling so mad, but at the same time, so dejected. He was back with me, in Forks, for only five days and already history was repeating itself.

"Edward…" I complained, feeling completely hopeless, before resting my brow against his chest.

"Bella, listen to me," he insisted, his voice turning husky, before he cupped his hands to my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "He cares about you—a lot, and I was able to rid myself of all the bullshit of the last six years out on him. We're good now—isn't that right, Jake?" he rose his voice for Jake's benefit, breaking my gaze to look over to him.

When there was no answer, I turned my head to face Jake. He was grinning over at Edward with his thumb outstretched.

"He's a lot more convincing than you are, Bells," he teased me, his grin turning warm.

"Oh my God…" I uttered in complete disbelief, more or less to myself, before wrapping my palm around my forehead, beginning to feel exasperated. So exasperated I didn't initially see it—how calm Edward was. How calm and in complete control of his emotions. So calm he actually began to joke around with Jake as they waited to be seen by the doctor.

All I could do was share in Uncle Billy's exacerbation, when it finally hit me, while the significance behind it brought me to a standstill.

The bad tempered boy I once knew was no more.

* * *

**A/N: liked, disliked? Show me some love, hate, flame, or flounce. I won't mind. Note: I'm only human, so of course I like reviews.  
I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and New Year, and I wish you well for 2016. And thanks for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: An early one this week, to make up for the delay last chapter. Yep, that's how I roll lol  
Anywho, why does Bella call Edward cheesy? Why do they call each other alligator and crocodile? When did Edward almost kill himself? When did he emotionally fall apart? When did they go to Australia together? Who is Kel, Nummi and Rach? What's the pink pen deal? Ugh... It's all in Someone Like You. This story is the sequel to that story, and no, I am not going to copy and paste relevant sections of it to explain this story better. Unless you want me to paste 335 thousand words of the entire story of Someone Like You. If you don't want to read it, that's okay, but you might get somewhat lost at times over the history etc.  
Alrighty, a quick thanks and smooches to all the love I'm receiving each update-despite my (at times) horrendous update record. I really do get pretty up myself, but I still don't pimp. I just don't... And yes-to answer a few questions-if you like it enough to post it to your blog, etc, that's fine. I'm just past all that, ya know? **

**I'll shut up, now.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 15**

**Bella's POV**

It was such a strange reality seeing Edward and Jake as friends—more than that; they quickly became buddies. At the same time it was incredibly reassuring. It was if it was signifying a start over, without any of all the old prejudices. In the past Edward and Jake hated each other, and the closest they ever got was tolerating one another for my sake, but now Edward was not only friends with Jake, but the two of them often hung out together when Edward was in Forks.

Even in hospital, they joked with each other over their "war wounds"—while all Uncle Billy could do was shake his head with impatience—and to make it up to Edward, for basically attacking him completely unprovoked, Jake fixed his car for free. Though, considering it was Jake who ended up with a concussion, and fractured cheekbone, not to mention five stitches—while all Edward ended up with was a few cuts and bruises and a sprained wrist—he was being pretty gracious about the whole thing.

But then so he should!

If Jake had done any real damage to Edward, I couldn't say I'd ever talk to him again. As it was, I refused to even look at him for several weeks, until Edward persuaded me into forgiving him. Edward had actually confessed that he felt bad about what he'd done to him—something that surprised the hell out of me. This was not the guy I once knew, at all.

It wasn't the first time Edward had taken his anger out on Jake to this degree, but this time it had forged an unlikely friendship. All I can say is that Edward must have been carrying around some pretty significant anger for him to do the kind of damage he'd done to Jake. Jake was four inches taller than him and outweighed him by at least forty pounds. But I knew how out of control Edward's anger could make him … at least, I_ did_. Edward would always be an emotional creature, but I couldn't say he was unusually short tempered anymore. I mean, of course, no more than the average red blooded male.

Edward had been right in the sense that it was something that needed to happen. It was inevitable; Jake was never going to accept Edward back in my life without him proving himself in some way. I guess taking him on in a fist fight was how Jake measured a guy's worth, and Edward definitely needed that outlet to let go of the last six years' worth of anger.

Men... They were such Neanderthals!

At least this time Uncle Billy didn't throw Edward in a jail cell; instead, he'd asked Edward if he wanted to press charges. Edward had only laughed it off, and it was the first time I'd ever seen my uncle look at him with anything other than distrust and disapproval.

Not long after, Uncle Billy started inviting me and Edward to dinner. I had a suspicion he'd been checking up on Edward. I knew he had friends in a precinct somewhere in Seattle, and he strangely went from being wary of Edward to suddenly being a whole lot open to the two of us. Or perhaps it was, as Sue explained, that Uncle Billy and Jake, after seeing me so unhappy for so long, were now witnessing that light within me be reignited—the light Edward had reignited.

Whatever it was, I embraced it wholeheartedly, but there was a downside to Edward getting close with my uncle, and I was all too quickly about to discover it.

**...**

Edward continued to spend the nights with me, travelling seven hours a day back and forth from Seattle, but after four weeks of this I eventually had to make him stop. It was exhausting him, and I couldn't focus at work from worrying about him so much. As we both often worked weekends, we arranged to have the same two days off and Edward drove across the night before to spend them with me in Forks. This became our routine for a couple of weeks, when I told Edward I wanted to take turns, and every second week drive to his apartment in Seattle. He was pretty insistent in the beginning about keeping it the way it was, but I'd refused to budge.

Even so, as much as I enjoyed Seattle, it didn't make up for only being with Edward twice a week. I missed him, and saying goodbye to him after our "weekends" together became heart wrenching.

"We have to do something about this, baby. It isn't working," he admitted with a heavy sigh, after I'd wrapped my arms around his neck and refused to let go, the morning he was due to drive back to Seattle.

I couldn't help it; every time he—or I—had to leave I lost it, but this time I literally couldn't let him go. It was tearing me apart.

Pulling back, I only gazed at him, my eyes widening with hope. "Yeah...?" I asked, my voice fractured through the tears I'd been trying to hide from him. He hated to see me cry and I hated to see it affect him so much.

Releasing one of my hands from around him, I wiped them away, just as he did the same.

For a moment that tender, partially amused, warm smile broke across his face, before it again fell in seriousness. "I wasn't going to tell you yet—because it's not a definite—but in a couple of weeks I have a job interview with an ambulance company in Port Angeles."

I drew in my breath, audibly—it was pure impulse—before I paused.

"You would really move here for me?" I eventually asked him, my voice becoming choked again, before I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck.

He hated Forks. In senior year it was all he could talk about—how much he looked forward to moving to Seattle.

"Of course I would," he answered without hesitation, pressing his lips lightly to my neck, before drawing me back to meet my eyes. "Do you know how long I've wanted to ask you to move back to Seattle with me permanently?"

"You ... have?"

"Every damn day, Bella," he admitted, his tone softening, before he elaborated, "but I can't ask you to give up your restaurant. Your life is in Forks, but the only thing keeping me in Seattle is my job."

I felt my emotions waver for a moment, needing to heavily bridge my forehead to keep them from spilling over. "But I'd give it all up for you, Edward—in a heartbeat," I confessed, my voice all but a whisper.

"I know you would..." His tone mirrored mine for a moment, before it again lightened. "Anyway, I'm taking a couple of weeks vacation, and I was thinking maybe you'd like to spend them with me at my apartment—you know, since there's _bugger all_ to do in Forks." His smile turned teasing, almost cheeky.

Throwing him a quasi-feigned scowl, I nudged him. "Stop it!"

He laughed softly, more or less to himself, before he asked, raising his brows, "Do you think you can get Sue to take care of the restaurant for a while?"

I nodded, my mind quickly racing ahead. I couldn't ask Ang to take on so much being in her eighth month of pregnancy, but I was sure Sue wouldn't have a problem with it. "Yeah, it should be fine."

"Good…" His voice dropped to a murmur, his eyes zeroing in on my lips before he planted his own over them several times, briefly but softly. "Now"—he paused to heavily release his breath—"would you let me go, woman. You're going to make me late!"

I only grinned at him, knowingly, before kissing him again quickly. "See you on Friday, you nut ball."

"Later, alligator," he said softly, and as I released my arms, he removed them fully from around him, before flashing me one last tender smile and stepping down the porch steps.

"I LOVE YOU, CROCODILE!" I sang, out as he got inside his car.

"CHEESEBALL!" he called back through the open window, as he drove back down the drive.

I watched him leave; it was the thirty-third time. I'd counted every one.

**...**

Friday night the restaurant was open until 10:30 pm, and since Edward usually arrived around 7:30, he always stayed to help me out. In fact, Kel's was fast becoming known for the handsome young paramedic in the navy blue EMS uniform waiting tables—it was if the locals felt safer with him there, and it quickly got a lot busier.

As soon as he arrived, no matter where I was in the restaurant, he'd engulf me to him and kiss me, before throwing an apron over his uniform, but tonight he simply tapped me on the shoulder. I was in the kitchen, and when I turned to face him, I immediately knew something was wrong. He had a defeated expression on his face, while appearing to be struggling to hold back his anger.

"Edward ... what's the matter?" I asked, my heart jolting in sudden panic.

"Can I talk to you outside for a moment, Bella?" he replied quietly, before reaching up to run his fingers stiffly back through his hair, and breaking eye contact with me.

I only gauged him seriously for a moment—I couldn't tell what he was feeling—before nodding silently. "Okay," I agreed, softly, removing my apron.

I made my way to the back of the restaurant, my heart thudding heavily, with Edward close behind, and the moment he closed the door after him, he immediately yanked me into his arms—so hard it caused a reflexive sound to burst from my lungs. And for a moment he only held me tightly to him. So tightly I could barely breathe.

"Honey ... you're scaring me!" I declared, reflecting the alarm that was beginning to flood me.

When he pulled me back, his expression only intensified. "Baby, why didn't you tell me—Jesus, this is why you lock the doors when you're alone here."

I only shook my head blankly, completely bewildered. "Edward, I—," I began when he interjected.

"Your uncle called me today, Bella," he explained, his voice constricted. "He wanted me to tell you that..." he paused, his jaw clenching, while forcing his breath rigidly through his nose, "_Mike Newton's _parole conditions ended today and if he comes near you again to let him know."

"Oh..." was all I said, dropping my head to my palm, as the panic anchored itself in my chest. I wasn't concerned for myself, after all; I was worried by what this could do to Edward—by what it was already doing to him.

And how he might react.

"He told me what he did to you, Bella," he added, his voice so compromised it didn't even sound like him anymore. "Jesus fucking Christ ... why didn't you tell me?"

"Why?" I echoed him, looking back up at him, and feeling the pain in his eyes rebounded immediately back through me. "Do you really need me to answer that?"

He again forced his fingers back through his hair, but this time it was with both his hands. "Bella..."

But this time I had no idea what he was trying to express, other than the anger I could plainly see boiling up out of him.

"Edward, it was three years ago. He pleaded guilty, and Uncle Billy took care of it all so I wouldn't have to worry about it, and it's not exactly something I want to think about—let alone tell you about and watch you get like _this_," I tried to explain to him, but the anxiousness in my voice only seemed to increase his.

"Baby…" his expression almost broke, "if I had been here that ... _fucking prick_ would never have laid a finger on you."

"You can't do that to yourself, honey," I pleaded with him softly, shaking my head, before reaching out to take his hand in mine.

His palm was sweaty.

He only stared at me, looking for one single moment like his rationality was about to splinter, before he sat down in one of the chairs and dropped his head into his outstretched hands. "I will _never_ fucking forgive them," he muttered, his voice hard and unforgiving, and of course, I knew exactly who he was referring to.

Wrapping my arms around his tense shoulders, I tentatively cradled his head to my chest, before he rose out of the chair, taking me with him.

He kissed me, over and over, my lips, my forehead—all over my face, but it was different. It was too impassioned and he was too on edge. It was killing me, breaking me apart, while instilling in me that all too familiar fear I used to carry around constantly for him.

"Edward..." I stopped him, the anxiety growing thick in my voice.

Resting his lips and nose against my brow for a moment he let go of his breath—every ounce of it, before he pulled back to lock his burning eyes with mine. "If that bastard ever comes near you again, baby, I will fucking kill him!" he stated, with so much conviction that I didn't doubt him for a second—and it scared the hell out of me.

"He won't," I promised him, in attempt to soothe him, but I couldn't; he held onto it, affecting him for the entire weekend—to the point that he almost wouldn't leave the following Monday. I had to practically force him, and while it reinforced how much control he had over his anger, I also realised he was just hanging on, and it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge.

Of course, poetically, as if the universe was testing him—testing us—the following Friday Edward was pushed _spectacularly_ over the edge.

It was the start of our vacation. Edward was driving to Forks as usual, staying at my house Friday night, and then early Saturday morning we were leaving again for Seattle. Naturally, Friday evening I was at the restaurant. It was busy as usual, and I was one man down with Ang on bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy. Thankfully, Jake offered to fill in until Edward arrived to take over.

I was hoping Edward would be past the previous Friday, and what my uncle had disclosed to him—this was the downside I was referring to, and it wasn't the only thing Uncle Billy filled Edward in on. Sam was another, a few weeks previously—something that made me want to shrivel up and die, and though it was fairly evident Edward didn't like hearing about it, he was pretty accepting about the whole thing. I was fairly certain Uncle Billy had also filled Edward in on the fact that it was Sam who'd stopped Newton from—whatever designs he'd had that night. Edward didn't say as much, but I knew him too well to not think it wasn't eating away at him.

That he wasn't here to stop it.

It was just the thing that could bring eighteen year old Edward to a screaming halt in the present.

I was so consumed by these thoughts that I didn't initially hear the commotion that was taking place. An excited buzz began to fill the restaurant, and people were jumping out of their chairs to rush to the front windows, when Sue turned to me, stating curiously, "I think there might be some kind of ruckus happening out front, darl."

Right at that moment my blood ran cold. I _knew_.

With my heart in my throat, I turned and raced through the back entrance and around the side to the parking lot to find Edward literally beating the life out of Mike Newton.

"Edward—stop!" I yelled, my voice almost failing by the sheer volume of fear behind it.

He didn't appear to have heard me, he'd lost complete control, and in my dismay, I hastily looked around for Jake. No one was attempting to stop this, and I knew if anyone could, it'd be Jake.

"Sue—where's Jake!?" I burst out of breath, after I'd ran back into the kitchen in blind panic, and before she could answer, Jake returned from the utility room, a confused questioning look on his face.

"Jacob—Edward's out the front and he's about to kill Newton!" I exclaimed in a rush, almost breaking down.

He was out the door before I could finish.

By the time Jake got to Edward, Newton was a stumbling, bloodied, near unconscious mess, as sirens signalled my uncle's imminent arrival.

Edward looked murderous—there was no other way to describe him—his eyes on fire, and every muscle in his body tensed and strained, as Jake struggled to hold him back; looking alarmed by the enormity of the situation. That's when Jake did something I wasn't expecting.

Turning Edward physically to face him, he swung his arm back and punched him, almost knocking him to the ground. Blood immediately spurted from Edward's eyebrow, opening up the same wound Jake had recently given him—which had only just healed.

The air immediately left my lungs, almost bringing me to my knees, and in the next moment, my legs were propelling me forward before I knew what I was doing.

Jake had Edward up against one of the cars in the lot, talking him down, while Newton hollered out half slurred threats and obscenities. I wasn't sure whether he was drunk or Edward had just beaten him senseless, but I couldn't focus on him.

"Jake—what the hell did you hit him for!?" I demanded, torn between anger and relief as I shoved past him, and just as Edward pulled me into his arms.

He was trembling, all over. It was as if his body of skin was alive and humming, and it took me straight back to the past; reminding me of the time he'd completely fallen apart. In reality, he was just full of adrenalin and was coming down.

"What are you talking about, Bells? Newton did that, not me," Jake replied, with feigned confusion, and as I again turned to him, he winked slyly.

That's when I got it.

The official story Jake relayed to Uncle Billy was that Edward had run into Mike Newton in the parking lot, where Newton made threats against me, causing Edward to demand he stay away from me. Newton then punched Edward without provocation, who, naturally, retaliated. This was something everyone at the restaurant who'd witnessed it immediately corroborated—even Jessica Crowley—before my uncle, clearly not buying any of it, grabbed a loudly protesting Mike by the scruff of the neck and hauled him into the back of the police cruiser.

"What about you, Edward?" Uncle Billy turned back to him, his expression sedate but slightly exasperated. "Anything to add?"

"Erm ... no," Edward replied, rubbing his chin, looking somewhat sheepish, "that's pretty much it."

As if a switch was flipped Edward was back, until his eyes again met Newton's through the car window and in that one moment I watched as his entire face transformed in front of me. It was evident now; the angry, scowling eighteen year old boy he once was would always exist within him, no matter how much control twenty-five year old Edward had over him.

Of course, in only minutes several videos were posted to YouTube, but luckily no one had caught the beginning where "Mike had thrown the first punch", and considering it was early evening and Edward wasn't in uniform, there was no way anyone would recognise him in it.

I had to admit it, there were perks to living in small towns, where everyone closed ranks around each other, because it was the sort of thing that could have been damaging to Edward's career—especially now with him applying for a new job.

Jake had instantly recognised this, even if I hadn't, and the fact that he'd gone so far out of his way to protect Edward the way he had was almost hard for me to comprehend.

We were definitely in uncharted territory.

"Well, come on, bruiser," I said to Edward, my voice dropping as I smiled up at him wryly. Grabbing his hand, I led him back into the restaurant. "Let's get that eye checked out."

He only flashed that way too charming smile, before releasing my hand to hang his arm around my shoulders.

I only sighed, deeply. There was never a dull moment with Edward—that was for bloody sure.

"Shit..." Edward mumbled, inspecting his eye in the staff bathroom mirror, "I think this is going to need to be stitched." He turned to me then, his smile ironic. "Your cousin sure knows how to pack a punch."

I only scoffed softly to myself. "He said the same thing about you."

"It's the same eye he split open when he punched me at Rob's party in junior year—remember?" he asked casually, turning back to me and stuffing his hands in his jeans pocket.

Remember? The night Edward had almost killed himself was something I'd never forget.

"I didn't see it happen," I mumbled, feeling my brow knot for a moment, before I again met his eyes. "Anyway, are you going to tell me what really happened with Newton?"

He immediately frowned, his expression darkening. "No."

With a semi frustrated sigh, I grabbed the sides of his shirt, and bowed my head against him for a moment, before again looking up. "Just tell me," I said, resigned.

Taking a stiff sounding breath, and running his hand back through his hair, he finally relented. "He told me he was going to fuck you again," he admitted quietly, unable to look at me.

I only scoffed again, bitterly this time. "He wishes."

When his eyes again locked with mine, they were burning. "He'll never lay a finger on you again."

Exhaling heavily, I broke into a small knowing smile. "What am I going to do with you?"

Of course, being Edward, he decided to imitate me, taking an exaggerated breath before breaking into a cheeky grin. "Marry me and have my babies?"

I paused, my heart stalling for a moment, before I reacted, deciding to tease him back. "Right now?"

"Later on," he replied, his grin broadening, before cupping his palm to my cheek and drawing me to him to kiss me briefly. "Let me go and get this fixed up first." He motioned to his eye.

"Want me to take you?" I asked him, again reaching out to take a fistful of his shirt in my palm.

"No," he insisted, feigning authority before he turned me around and placed both his hands on my shoulders, leading me back into the restaurant. "It shouldn't take too long." He bent over my shoulder to press his lips to my temple. "I'll be back soon, buttercup."

Grinning to myself and shaking my head, I whacked him with the dishtowel, before getting back to preparing the carbonara I'd started on before the whole fiasco started.

Though, I couldn't stop my hands from shaking.

Marry me and have my babies…

"You know," Sue spoke up, smiling secretly to herself, "I think your uncle has completely changed his mind about Edward."

I was about to reply when my phone buzzed from the counter beside me. Picking it up, I clicked it open.

**Bella, why is Edward on YouTube beating the shit out of Mike Newton?**

Alice!

"Bloody hell!" I burst, throwing my phone across the other side of the kitchen counter in a fit of angry frustration—only to immediately retrieve it and reply:

**That was all my doing, because you know how I get off on making Edward destructive!**

And then again—a little less rationally:

**LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!**

Without a word spoken, Sue took my phone out of my hand, and placed it in the pocket of her apron, before squeezing my shoulder gently.

I only nodded in understanding, smiling at her gratefully, before once more expelling my breath and diverting my focus back to the job in front of me.

Three stitches later, Edward returned and helped me and Sue lock up the restaurant, before we all left.

"Oh, darl!" Sue called out, catching up to us in the car park.

Edward turned back to her.

"Bella's phone," she explained, placing it in his hand. "I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks!"

"Bye, Sue—and thank you!" I called back.

**...**

I was exhausted—emotionally and physically, and by the time we got back to the house, all I could think about was my bed—in the conventional sense.

"You go up, baby. I'll feed _Killer, the guard dog,"_ Edward offered, flashing me a tender smile. "I'll be right behind you."

"Okay..." I conceded, too tired for anything more, before heading for the stairs as my hand slipped from Edward's.

I fell asleep immediately, only to be woken not long after by the sound of Edward, literally yelling downstairs. I immediately sat upright in bed and focused my attention on him for a moment. He was obviously on the phone, and judging by the amount of F-words he was blurting, it was to Alice—and he was pissed off.

And, no doubt, he'd seen the message she'd sent me, earlier...

Climbing out of bed, I headed to the stairs, pausing at the top. The volume of Edward's voice had dropped, but the emotion behind it remained a passionate, seething anger.

"This is all your doing, Alice—do _not_ put any of it on me. _You_ decided this. You decided it was your fucking right to interfere in our lives. Do you realise Bella could have been killed by that _fucking bastard_, Newton—all because of you and my fucking _mother_!"

This was a level of anger I hadn't seen in him for a long time. Over the previous two months, Edward had remained calm and easy going. His anger over Alice was always brewing just beneath the surface, but I thought the fight he'd had with Jake had allowed him to release it all. That was, at least, until he found out about what had happened with Mike Newton.

And now we were straight back at the beginning.

There was silence for a moment, where I assumed Alice was speaking, before he continued ranting, "Why the fuck do you think Newton left her alone during senior year? Because he wouldn't have dared go near her with me around—but as soon as I was gone the fucker seen it as a green light—so yeah, I _do_ find you responsible for it—Do you know how much you hurt her, Alice? Do you have _any_ fucking idea? I've had her cousin tell me, her uncle—even Nummi and Rach on the other side of the fucking planet know what you did to her. And you _knew_, Alice—you knew how she grew up, and you decided to fucking _add_ to it!"

Again there was a pause where the only sound I could hear was the stiff sound of Edward pushing his breath through his nose.

"Can you imagine if I did this to you—let's imagine for a moment I did and you found out Jazz was sick and you weren't there to help him. How the fuck would _you _feel?"

He moved to the kitchen, where I heard the sound of the refrigerator door open, before being slammed shut.

"It's not going to happen, Alice! I can't forgive you. I might have been able to before, but not now—and you can tell my _dearest fucking mother_ from me that I'm fucking DONE!"

And with that there was silence.

I found him standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands on his hips and his head lowered, and that expression on his face. That expression I knew only too well—where he was overrun with a thousand emotions.

Without a word, I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him close to me; feeling his hands slowly glide around to my back, beneath my night shirt.

"I don't want to live in the past, Edward," I pleaded with him, softly, before planting my lips at the base of his throat, and then again just beneath his jaw. "And I don't want to see you getting so upset by it."

"I can't take it back, baby—and it's killing me," he all but whispered, the pain etched deeply in his forehead, before he closed his eyes.

He was crumbling, and I wasn't sure what he meant, but it was unbearable to see him like this.

I needed to distract him.

Stretching on my toes, I held him tighter to me, before kissing him, deeply, and then again, opening my mouth to him more and more. Then slowly, I began to feel the kinetics within him shift. Bit by bit his body began to loosen against me, while his body heat rose, increasing the temperature between us, until I felt the moment when his mindset completely shifted. It was as if he snapped, his breath gushing from his nose, before he engulfed me tighter into his arms, his palms running over every inch of my flesh as he began to take me up with him.

It became rushed and fever pitched; an eagerness to reach that moment—to feel it, and to hold on to it for as long as we could.

We didn't make it back to the bedroom, but as it was, the kitchen table was just the right height for the mechanics of it, without too much discomfort. I was thrown back against it several times, as Edward's hot, slippery body impacted heavily with mine, before he again pulled me upright. He was always conscious of me; in fact, he often apologised to me, right in the middle of it—no matter how physically consumed he'd already become. It had threatened to break the momentum between us several times.

Just like it did this time, but he was just so ridiculously sweet.

I attempted to speak, but with my mouth connected to his, all I could do was muffle it through my nose, before I forced myself to pull back.

"Would you stop being so bloody cheesy, and manhandle me for once!" I teased him, my voice all but failing behind my over exerted breath, before Edward laughed softly, breathily, again taking my mouth with his.

But he didn't manhandle me—he never did, but he took me to that moment, and beyond it, several times. He made my body react to him, and to my own energy in ways that, in the moment, I was honesty unable to comprehend. It was that all-consuming, tangible, unfathomable intensity that existed between us, converging on us over and over again; until it peaked and brought us colliding back down together.

When Edward's hard, quaking body stopped, it not only brought me to a shuddering standstill, pushing me back against the surface of the table, but the entire kitchen table came to a screeching halt across the linoleum floor. It made him laugh for a moment, inwardly and through his nose, as he struggled to rein in his breath. He was hot and silky, and as we slid against one another, Edward relaxed his full weight over mine, dropping his head into the curve of my neck and shoulder, before he pulled back to kiss me clumsily; his calming breath continuing to spread heat through me.

Bracing himself on his hands, on each side of me, Edward was still for a moment, as my chest rose and fell to meet his, when out of nowhere he started laughing openly, jerking against me as he did.

"What…?" I asked, curiously, feeling my expression parallel his.

"Buddy is licking the back of my legs," he answered, his laughter becoming deep and rustic.

Exhaling quickly, and almost laughing with him, I attempted to see around Edward's back. "Buddy—no!"

And Buddy, seeming to pick up on the energy between us, jumped up on the table, and began licking the sweat off both our faces.

"Buddy!" I protested, wrinkling my nose in the wake of his onslaught, before Edward pulled me off the table in one motion. Then swooping me up in his arms, he carried me towards the stairs.

"I can walk, you doofus!" I teased him, as my naked, damp body slipped further in his arms.

"Be quiet, woman—Jesus, baby, you smell like dog breath," he commented, flashing me that altogether too charming grin, before continuing to laugh softly to himself.

Emotionally charged sex and dog breath, but for the meantime, eighteen year old Edward was back in the past, and I again had this easy going, ridiculously sweet and tender-hearted man right here with me.

* * *

**A/N: K you know the drill. I accept all reviews, faves, follows, flames, insults, lurks and general anonymous assholey-ness all in good faith.**

**MWAH xoxo**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, things are going to skewer slightly off course, but they will get back on. Have no fear.  
I hope you enjoy. MWAH xoxo**

* * *

**Because of you**

**Chapter 16**

**Bella's POV**

Edward and I were in Seattle for three days when two things happened. The first, I met Kate, and the second, I came down with the stomach flu.

At least, I came down with what I _thought _was the stomach flu...

It started in the early hours of the morning. I was having a bizarre dream that I was on a rollercoaster and feeling horribly motion sick from it, only to wake up and quickly discover it wasn't a dream at all. I then had exactly three seconds to make it to Edward's bathroom.

He was right behind me, and I spent the next ten minutes pitifully slumped over the toilet, and the next several hours making repeated trips. All while Edward held my hair back, and rubbing my back each time the contents of my stomach were forced out of me.

"I think you've been working too hard, sweetie; you're run down," he concluded, resting his lips to the top of my head for a moment, after the tenth round and was practically carrying me back to the bedroom.

I could only manage a half fractured moan, swallowing past the metallic taste in my mouth, before slumping my head against his chest. I didn't even have the energy to tease him for calling me "sweetie".

After tentatively helping me back in bed, he disappeared for a couple of minutes before returning with a glass in his hand.

"Here, try and drink this, baby," he said tenderly, before placing it on the side table and sitting beside me on the bed.

I moaned again weakly, covering my face with my hands in a dismal attempt to protect myself from even the very idea of putting something in my stomach. "I won't be able to hold it down."

I felt his fingers, then, soft and warm, gently brush my hair back off my face. "Take small sips, because if you don't you're going to dehydrate, and if you dehydrate I'll have to take you to emergency, and if you go to emergency they'll put an I.V in you, and I know how much you hate needles."

There was something teasing about his tone, despite the softness and affection to his voice, that despite my current predicament I all but smiled to myself.

"What is it?" I asked after a moment, squinting my eyes to half glance at him.

"It's _lemonade_," he replied, his voice dropping lightly.

I groaned, but this time out of growing exasperation; my smile inevitably widening nonetheless. "Stop it!"

He broke into warm, half suppressed laughter, before bending down to press his lips against my brow. "Well"—he paused to flash me that emphatically pitiful smile again—"I think you're starting to get some colour back. Do you think you'll be able to get some sleep?"

Taking a heavy breath, I released it into a pathetic sounding whimper, half nodding as I did. "Yeah…"

He climbed back in bed behind me, being careful to disrupt me as little as possible, before curling his arms around me.

"Honey, I don't want you to get this too. Maybe you shouldn't get so close to me," I mumbled, sighing as he gently pulled me against him, regardless.

"It's a bit late for that, buttercup—and did you just call me '_honey_'?"

"You're imagining things…" I murmured, continuing to smile faintly to myself.

"I apparently do that a lot," he replied, planting his lips to the back of my neck momentarily, "now would you go back to sleep, you pain in the ass!"

Releasing my breath for the second time, I relaxed myself against him, my smile pulling wider.

Only Edward could make me smile like this, even when I was a puking wreck.

When I woke again it was just after midday, and as I sat up in bed, I quickly realised all my nausea had completely passed, and it didn't occur to me to be concerned by it. However, the next morning when I woke up, having just made it to the toilet, alarm bells started going off in my mind, and of course, Edward didn't miss a thing. He'd burst through the bathroom door immediately after me, holding back my hair, and making jokes about the time Rach got me drunk, to the point that I almost choked from laughing as I threw up.

Getting me a glass of water, he helped me to my feet; all without mentioning the elephant in the room. The same elephant that hung around all morning; though, thankfully, I wasn't as sick as I had been the day before. I only needed to bolt to the bathroom once more a couple of hours later, but I suppose it might have had something to do with the fact that we hadn't eaten Indian for dinner, like we had that first night. Whatever the reason, right around lunch time, it was as if I'd never woken up sick at all. It also became obvious that I wasn't suffering from some kind of stomach bug, or food poisoning. Of course, I immediately suspected what it was—it didn't help that my breasts had been incredibly sensitive over the last week, either—and I was certain Edward did as well. I kept a close eye on him throughout the day expecting to see the same reaction he'd had the last time this had happened; as if he'd had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But if he was concerned about anything he wasn't giving it away.

In fact, he appeared ... _chirpier_.

But that could have been wishful thinking.

The next morning we were back in the very same position as the day prior, with me slumped over the toilet, and with Edward supporting me while keeping my hair clear.

"Bugger…" I moaned into the bowl, only for Edward to muffle his laughter through his nose—which was typical for him whenever I let slip the language of my upbringing. "Stop it," I mumbled, the smile once again having already penetrated through my nausea.

He laughed softly, before exhaling a heavy, resigned sounding sigh. It washed over my back, before his lips came to rest against my bared shoulder. "Are we going to be needing a shotgun wedding, buttercup?" he murmured, and I was unsure of what emotion he was projecting, because he sounded … completely at ease.

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump forward before I pushed myself off the rim of the toilet, placing the lid down. "I dunno..." I mumbled, pitifully, taking a gulp of the water Edward had ready for me.

Reaching up to flush the toilet, Edward pulled me against him, before he stood up, lifting me in his arms as he did. "Come on then, Pukey McSwan," he said lightly, heading back into the hall to his bedroom.

"Good grief—you're carrying me?" I said to him wryly, scoffing into an affectionate smile.

"Be quiet, woman, and let me act like a caveman," he replied, grinning subtly to himself before he plonked me down in the middle of the bed and leaned over me on his hands to plant a quick kiss against my brow. "I'm going to make some coffee, you want one?"

I immediately grimaced, my stomach churning at the very idea. "Ugh ... no..."

"Toast?" His eyebrows rose, his tone softer.

I only shook my head, my smile turning tender.

He took a deliberate breath, releasing it into a hum. "Gherkins and ... _vegemite_?" His grin turned cheeky and inward, making an obvious reference to that now blatant elephant.

"Edward…" I complained, sighing, and bringing my palm up to my face.

"Okay, okay, _Edwud_ is going," he teased me, altogether too charming for his own good.

I flashed him a feigned, cynical scowl, and as he turned to leave, I quickly reached out, slipped my fingers beneath the band of his underwear, and yanked them; making the elastic snap back against his hip.

It almost made his knees buckle, before he turned back to me and pointed his finger at me, his expression growing wicked, despite the warm, knowing smile on his face. "You're lucky you're probably knocked up, buttercup."

I groaned, before grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him. He only chuckled lightly to himself before walking out of the room.

Turning on my stomach I grabbed my pillow and hugged it, scoffing and shaking my head to myself, before it suddenly occurred to me how ... unexpected it all was. Edward was fully aware that there was a possibility I might have been pregnant, but not only was he joking with me about it, but it seemed like it was all he could do to keep from grinning.

Was he ... _happy_ about the prospect of it?

Curling myself beneath the covers, I patiently waited for him to come back, but in my ridiculously decrepit, overtired state, I ended up falling asleep first.

I slept until just after eleven.

Gingerly pulling myself out of bed—I was feeling queasy again—I grabbed my robe, and headed into the living room. I found Edward dozing upright on the sofa, while the MLB played on the television in the background.

Wrapping my arms around his neck from behind him, immediately rousing him awake, I kissed his cheek, before pressing my nose and lips to his neck, inhaling him in. "You left me all alone," I murmured against his skin, feeling his pulse against my lips.

He smiled to himself, looking too unbelievably adorable still half asleep, before he reached up and grabbed my hand. "I didn't want to disturb you," he explained in a croaky voice, leading me around to the front of the sofa. "Come here…"

Pulling me onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands slipping beneath my robe. "I think we need to find out what's going on with you, baby," he said, sounding almost apprehensive, before he nuzzled his nose against the skin just below my ear.

I only sighed, deeply and with resignation, curling my hand around his neck and into his hair. "Yeah…" I agreed softly, resting the side of my face against his forehead.

"You're not going to get all mopey on me, are you, cuppy cake," he teased me, his voice muffled against my cheek.

I broke reluctantly into a small smile, nudging him. "Stop mocking me."

He only half chuckled shortly beneath his breath, before he pulled me back a fraction to look at my face. "What's worrying you?"

"Being pregnant," I confessed simply, biting down on my lower lips and frowning, before breaking his gaze.

"Bella, look at me," he instructed, turning my chin to face him when I refused. "Are you worried about having a baby, or … losing a baby … like before."

And I felt like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself—no doubt about my mother, and how I'd reacted the last time I was pregnant.

"Both," I mumbled, shrugging my shoulder, deciding not to go there either; I wasn't that person anymore.

He paused. "Would it . . . be terrible—to be pregnant with my baby?" he asked, and he immediately sounded uncertain, as a small frown puckered his brow.

"Of course it wouldn't," I replied, my tone soft and sincere, as I ran my fingers over his stubbled jaw, absently. "Who else's baby would I want to have? It's just … I don't know—it's not too soon? I don't want it to ruin anything."

"Bella, it wouldn't ruin anything," he assured me, his voice low and insistent, before he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. "Do you think I spent the last six years of my life—miserable without you—only to find you again just so we can _fool around_?"

I shook my head, releasing my breath resolutely. "No … I know…" I whispered, turning my face to rest it with his.

"Plus," he added, threading his fingers through mine and squeezing, "the last time I checked it's not exactly possible for you to get pregnant on your own, so I'm not going to let you take it on all by yourself this time—okay?" He was serious, adamant, and I was beginning to feel a little overcome; overcome by the sheer amount of affection—and emotion—I felt for him. That I felt growing for him every day.

I only nodded in reply, biting down on my lip again in an attempt to keep my emotions at bay.

"Jeez, baby," his tone turned light and teasing, "you're not going to turn all sloppy on me now, are you?"

I broke into an affectionate grin, prodding him again, "You're the one being a complete cheeseball—I'm probably not even pregnant." Though, I didn't feel as confident as I sounded.

"Well, that's why we need to find out if you _are_, first."

"If I am…?" I asked, my tone dropping, distracted again, as the uneasiness regrouped within me.

"If you are ... we make sure the little nugget's in the right place this time," he explained, a smile pulling at his lips, despite the fact that his eyes were burning and completely serious, "and after that, I get a job in Port Angeles. Then we get married and go sailing off into the sunset…"

My heart kicked into 5th gear and all of a sudden I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry, or throw up.

Placing my hand against the side of his face, I felt myself physically waver, needing to deliberately swallow past the emotion building in my throat. "You're such a sap, Edward. . ."

His grin turned tender. "Or I could ask you to shack up with me and risk your wrath."

And before the tears could overflow, and I fell spectacularly apart, he'd completely distracted me. "Stop!" I demanded, my protest completely feigned as my smile pulled affectionately.

He only chuckled, breathily, before cupping his hand to the nape of my neck, and pulling me to him to press his mouth over mine, repeatedly for a moment, before he dropped his lips to my shoulder.

"What if ... I'm not pregnant?" I breached, in a voice just higher than a whisper.

"If you're not…" he paused, glancing back up at me and taking an audible breath, "then I get a job in Port Angeles, and we get married and go sailing off into the sunset."

My heart stalled—that's all I can describe it as—and I was becoming so emotional I was beginning to tremble. I think I nodded in response, placing my trembling hand against my forehead, before I closed my eyes, as tears fell from beneath my lashes.

He wanted to marry me—whether I was pregnant or not. He wanted to marry me, and—dammit—I was coming apart.

And so I did—as much as I tried to resist it—even as Edward gazed at me gently and so seriously, before his lips began inching with the stirrings of affectionate amusement.

Teasing me as much as he always did, but I just couldn't stop the tears.

Curving his hand to the side of my face, he kissed me, tenderly and almost long, before I dropped my face into the crook of his neck, pitifully attempting—not very successfully—to pull myself together.

"This is what we're going to do today," Edward murmured, after a moment, his lips grazing against my cheek. "I have to pick up my suit from the dry cleaners, so why don't we grab some lunch and afterward go find a _chemist_"—he grinned cheekily as I whacked him in response—"and find out what's making you become a pile of pukey mess every morning."

We left at midday; which was around the same time the nausea I'd been suffering from over the last three days usually dissipated.

It was only a ten minute trip to the city, and we spent it in silence; there was a lot to think about, after all. I spent the time alternating between watching Edward as he drove—as he smiled constantly to himself, and chewed on the inside of his cheeks, like he always did when he was deep in thought—while contemplating the very real possibility that I was pregnant.

By the time we arrived, and Edward found a place to park I discovered I was becoming so fond of the idea, I was beginning to fear that maybe I wasn't…

By early afternoon we were back home, with three bags of groceries for dinner, and four boxes of pregnancy tests; all different brands.

"Shall I do them now...?" I mumbled, pulling one of them out of my bag to read the back of it, as Edward unpacked the groceries.

The instructions stated that the best time to do it was first thing in the morning, but I didn't think either of us could wait that long. Besides, the last time I'd taken one of these I'd done it in the early afternoon, and there had been no denying the result.

Edward stood up from placing a carton of milk inside the refrigerator, his eyes zeroing in on the box I held in my hand. "Okay, go and do it, babe, and I'll get dinner started," he replied, simply; though, there was a rawness to his expression.

"All right," I conceded, expelling a long breath as my stomach began to knot.

"_Orrite,_" he echoed me, smothering back his laughter at my replying scowl.

"Careful, buster, if these are all positive, you will be my slave for the next nine months."

"Don't pretend like that doesn't turn you on, buttercup." He winked at me, flashing me a devilish smirk.

I only sighed, loudly and full of exasperation before I grabbed all four boxes and headed to the bathroom. He was too bloody self-assured for his own good at times.

After following the instructions to the letter, I left all four tests sitting on the edge of the vanity and promptly left the room with one giant sense of déjà vu. It'd been six years since I'd done this very thing, and like the first time I physically couldn't wait and watch to see what the outcome would be.

I was leaning up against the wall, my eyes glued to the timer on my phone, when Edward came around the hall.

"What's happening, baby—what do they say?" he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him.

Crossing my arms, convinced I was suddenly cold, I leaned my forehead against his chest and closed my eyes. "A couple more minutes…" I explained.

We waited … and waited, while I allowed the very idea of having a baby grow in my mind, almost scared to admit that I was becoming fond of the idea.

"Uhm … sweetie?" Edward broke cautiously into my thoughts. "It's been almost ten minutes."

"Can you go look?" I asked him pathetically, looking up to meet his eyes and silently pleading with him.

He sighed in exaggeration, conceding, as a small smile twitched at his lips. "Okay, you big _sook_."

He disappeared into the bathroom, returning not ten seconds later, holding one of the tests in his hand and gazing down at it. When he looked up to meet my apprehensive gaze, his expression was . . . neutral, before he held it up for me to read as a broad grin slowly penetrated his face.

There was no mistaking it; the word "pregnant" appeared in the little window.

I was pregnant; for the second time in my life I was pregnant with Edward's baby.

And I was happy—so happy my expression was soon mirroring his, just as he engulfed me into his arms, hoisting me off the ground.

The next day, after recovering from—what I now knew was—morning sickness, Edward practically dragged me out of bed to make an appointment to see an OB-GYN. When I called there had just been a cancellation, so I was booked in for the following Wednesday—the day after Edward's interview with Olympic Ambulance in Port Angeles.

In truth I had no idea how far along I was. The only time I had ever had regular cycles was when I was on the pill, and since breaking up with Sam, I'd stopped taking it. The last period I'd had was before Edward came back, and I wasn't exactly _cautious _that first month with him.

If I had to guess, I'd say I was around six weeks, and I only had Angela's pregnancy to base my presumption off. If anything I was more anxious to make sure this pregnancy, like the one previous, wasn't ectopic. So far I hadn't experienced any pain or bleeding, and considering the degree of morning sickness I was experiencing, it had to be a sign of good hormone levels.

Regardless of whether it was or not, the morning sickness was terrible. I went to bed at night, almost in tears as I contemplated the next morning. It woke me up like clockwork at 5:00am, and was relentless for seven hours. I had no idea how I was going to make it at work when I got back to Forks. I couldn't even think about food for those first few hours, let alone cook it—with the smell of it surrounding me.

After that first morning, I quickly discovered that the degree of severity depended on what I ate the night before. I suffered the least amount of vomiting the night we'd stayed in and Edward made us toasted sandwiches for dinner, so for the next few nights after, that's what I ate.

But whether I threw up once or several times, I was still generally miserable, and it only seemed to get worse. The day before Edward's interview I woke up not only nauseated but light headed and feeling short of breath.

"With all the throwing up you've been doing, honey, you probably have low blood sugar," Edward speculated, when, unlike the morning sickness, the dizziness continued throughout the day.

With that theory Edward attempted to get me to eat more, but it only made me feel sick, and after spending every morning violently ill, I wasn't exactly eager to extend upon it.

By nightfall I was beginning to feel increasingly drained and weak, and on top of it I had a nagging ache in my shoulder. At the same time I didn't want to complain either. I didn't want to worry Edward—not that I really thought there was anything to be worried about. Ang had told me multiple times how much the first twelve weeks were hell—how tired and miserable she constantly was. So much so, the thought of another possible six weeks of feeling like this made me feel anxious, and I had to keep reminding myself of the way Edward had reacted the day we found out—the way he'd smiled.

He was happy about it, but as much as I hated feeling this way, Edward hated seeing me go through it.

"Okay, baby, you really don't look well," he concluded just as we were about to climb into bed. He'd been watching me closely over the last hour or so, and judging from his expression he wasn't happy with what he was seeing.

"I'm fine," I assured him, not sounding even remotely convincing, before placing my palm against his cheek. "You're just a worry-wart."

He contemplated this for a moment, his forehead bunching further as he did. "You're really pale, honey. Let me just check your blood pressure."

And with that, he disappeared into his closet, returning a minute later carrying what looked like a small toiletries bag. What it was, I soon discovered, was an electronic blood pressure monitor, which he placed around my arm, before switching on.

"90/60," he read the results when it had finished. "A little low, but you're pretty tachy, babe."

"_English,_ Edward," I reminded him with a heavy sigh, placing my palm around my forehead.

"Your heart is accelerated," he mumbled in explanation, looking like he was becoming lost in thought.

Of course, Edward wasn't satisfied until he'd googled symptoms of early pregnancy and discovered that faintness, low blood pressure and even _tachycardia_ were all completely normal. If truth be told, it made me feel a lot more reassured, as well.

Not that I was any happier about the prospect of feeling this way for several more weeks, but if I was being honest, I was already becoming attached to this little life who was making me feel so miserable. It was such a stark contrast from how I'd felt the last time I was pregnant. At best I'd felt indifferent, even resentful, but now I was being overcome with an inherent desire—to protect him or her; as well as an increasing fear that I'd lose him.

**...**

Edward's interview was for 11am, which meant he had to leave at eight to make it in time. Of course, eight o'clock was smack bang in the middle of what was becoming my morning routine of extreme nausea and vomiting. So me going with him was out of the question, but I did drag my pitiful state out of bed long enough to tie his tie, and hug him goodbye—even if it was mostly to keep myself on my feet.

Edward only held me to him, looking more concerned than he had the night before, before planting his lips to my forehead—as his own creased deeply. "You're all cold and clammy," he murmured, as he gazed at me intently for a moment. "Just relax today, honey. I should be back around two-thirty."

"I'm fine," I insisted for the infinite time that week, my voice catching mid-sentence and instantly contradicting me. "No worrying about me, okay?"

He only broke into a semi askew grin, but the concern was definitely compromising his expression. "We should probably get you some pre-natal vitamins..." he suggested as he led me back to bed.

I nodded; actually, I hadn't even thought of that. It was possible I was just low in iron, and I remembered Ang also telling me that it was another common symptom of pregnancy. "I have my doctor's appointment tomorrow, Edward," I reminded him. "He's going to tell us that feeling like crap for the first three months of pregnancy is completely normal and that we're both being neurotic."

He smiled, exhaling quickly past it before he kissed me one final time, tenderly but briefly. "Take it easy—I'll be back soon." His voice had turned husky—a sure sign he was stressed, and I didn't want him concentrating on anything but his interview.

"Stop worrying about me!" I demanded, needing to take a deep breath just to gather the energy it took.

"Shut up and go to sleep," he teased me before turning to leave, but he was fooling no one.

I waited until I heard the sound of the front door clicking shut, before I sighed and rolled to my side. I wasn't sure if Edward had cause to be concerned, but I'd definitely woken fainter than I had the day before, and this tachycardia, he'd referred to the night before, was obvious now. My heart was hammering so fast I could feel each beat slamming against my rib cage and reverberating throughout every pore in my body.

For the most part I slept, I slept so much and so deeply, I actually slept through my morning sickness. But when I woke, I was so disorientated it took me several minutes to get my bearings. It was just past 1pm I realised after I grabbed my phone from the bedside table. I'd also missed two calls from Edward.

When I returned his call he answered after the first ring sounding anxious.

"Hey, I'm okay. I just slept like the dead," I explained, shaking my head to myself in a vain attempt to push the confusion from my thoughts.

He paused, before replying, "Okay, that's good. How are you feeling?"

"Better," I reassured him, but it was a complete lie. The entire room was spinning and I was beginning to struggle to catch my breath. "How'd you go?" I asked, to veer him off the subject of me.

"Good," he answered simply, his tone brightening. "I'll tell you about it when I get back."

"Okay."

"Okay, well depending on the ferry, I should be back in just over an hour. I'm going to stop off and get you some vitamins too."

"You cheeseball," I attempted to tease him, but I was becoming breathless, and he picked up on it immediately.

"Baby ... are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm still a bit dizzy, that's all," I only half confessed.

He sighed, heavily, wearily. "Bella..." he began, before I cut him off.

"Edward, I'm going to be feeling like this for the next—God knows how many—weeks, and I don't want you constantly freaking out over it."

"But you know I'll _freak out_, regardless." His voice turned tender, before he seemed to snap out of it. "Okay, you pain in the ass, see you soon."

"Doofus," I murmured, hanging up before he could detect anything more wrong with me.

I spent the next half an hour in bed trying—and failing—to throw off the wooziness, before eventually dragging myself up; convinced I just needed to eat. I felt so faint, that as I made my way to the kitchen I almost fainted twice, and on top of this my heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest. It was definitely beginning to worry me. Angela had had morning sickness—probably to the same degree as I did—but I didn't recall it ever being more than that. In fact, she'd barely missed a day of work. At this point there was no way I'd last five minutes at the restaurant.

After making myself a ham and cheese toasted sandwich, I practically crashed on the sofa, forcing myself to eat it in small bites. It all came to nothing anyway, because not twenty minutes later I threw it all back up again.

As I splashed water over my face with trembling, shaky hands, warning bells were again going off in my mind. I was forced to face it; something was not quite right. I knew I was meant to feel tired and nauseated, but not to this extreme. I was beginning to panic—so much so, I didn't want to wait another day to see the doctor; I needed to find out _now_ what was wrong with me.

Switching on the television, I lay back down on the sofa, hoping to distract myself while I waited for Edward to get back. I thought about calling him again, but decided against it almost immediately. The last thing I wanted was to worry him while he was in the middle of a long drive—he already had a habit of speeding, after all. As it was, he couldn't have been more than thirty minutes away; I could wait.

I was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate—to the point that even keeping my eyes open became a constant struggle. Physically, I was weak and exhausted, but a little voice within me kept warning me not to succumb to it. To wait for Edward. But it was a battle I was quickly losing, and was just drifting off to sleep when the doorbell sounded. Sitting myself up weakly and groggily from the sofa, I glanced around the room with the shroud of confusion again clouding my thoughts. I couldn't anchor my focus, and as I repeatedly attempted to shake my head clear, the doorbell rang again.

Pulling myself sluggishly to my feet, I made my way to the door on shaking, unstable legs, using it to brace myself as I opened it.

On the other side stood a tall blond woman, probably around my age, who only stared down at me with an expression I couldn't quite comprehend. Though, I knew immediately who she was.

"H-hi—I'm looking for Edward..." she eventually spoke, glancing away from me with obvious uncertainty.

"He's ... out at th-the mo-ment. W-would ... you like to ... to…" I could feel myself fading. I didn't have the breath to continue, and as I clung to the door to keep myself on my feet, my ears began ringing sharply.

Her expression this time immediately contorted in alarm. "Oh my God—are you okay?" she exclaimed, the words appearing to come out of her mouth in slow motion, sounding almost echoed and incoherent.

I only nodded, so weakly I wasn't sure my head even moved, as I felt the darkness closing in on me—from every angle. I couldn't escape it.

"Call ... E-Edward … p-please..." were the last words I spoke before I felt myself falling as I was pulled into the abyss.

* * *

**A/N: Feel free to tell me your thoughts, and thank you for reading.  
*kiss***


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: okay, you might not like me after this chapter, but try and have faith that everything will tie together. As for this chapter . . . oy vey, it took a lot of Joe Cocker, and the medical terms, ugh! Thank God that I have a good friend who's a medical student to help me through it. Gave me a migraine, I can tell you.  
Okay, without further ado. . . **

* * *

**Because of you**

**Chapter 17**

**Edward's POV**

The ferry was about to dock at the Seattle Terminal; I was ten minutes from home—at the most—when Bella called.

Releasing my breath in relief—I'd been worried about her all day—I answered it, "Hey, baby. I'll be home in ten. How are you feeling?"

There was a pause, when a voice that wasn't Bella's spoke up, apprehensively. "Edward . . . it's Kate. . ."

"Kate," I repeated, blankly for a moment before demanding, "what the fuck are you doing with Bella's phone?!"

"She-she asked me to ring you. Edward—"

I cut her off, immediately pissed off, while my fucking skin crawled at the same time. "What the fuck does that mean—how the hell do you even know her?"

"Edward, listen—," she insisted, but I refused.

"Are you at my fucking apartment? Put Bella on the damn phone—now!"

"For God's sake, Edward!" she snapped. "I'm not a psychopath. I came to get my grandmother's photo album that I left here. I had no idea she would even be here. Anyway, shut the hell up and listen—Bella has fainted."

My heart immediately stalled. "Fainted . . . ?"

"Yes, _fainted_!" she repeated in that screechy fucking voice of hers.

"Is-is she conscious!?"

"No . . . well she's in and out."

"Explain to me what happened," I told her, attempting to keep my voice calm despite the panic I could feel rising up on me.

"She opened the door, and she looked like death—her face was really white—and she started talking but she was stuttering. At first I thought she was drunk. She asked me to call you and then she passed out."

"Okay, Kate, hang the phone up and call an ambulance—no, fuck that. I will!" I burst, before immediately ending the conversation and dialing 911 with my hands beginning to shake beyond my control.

In a rush I explained Bella's situation, my voice wavering as my panic for her turned almost fucking blinding.

The operator asked me to repeat my address and I almost fucking lost it—something this woman instantly picked up on. After being instructed to remain calm, I once more relayed my address to her.

"Okay, an ambulance has been dispatched," she informed me, before I hung up, but there was nothing I could do. I was fucking stuck on this ferry, and the next five minutes as it docked felt like an hour.

I knew there was something wrong with her—at least more than just early pregnancy. It had been plaguing me all day. I'd watched the color drain from her face the night before and this morning she just didn't look right. In fact, she could barely fucking hold her head up. I'd kept convincing myself she was newly pregnant and it was just throwing her, but I knew all along.

I should never have fucking left her!

Once I was off the ferry and out of the terminal, I put my foot down—not fucking caring that I ran every red light on the way home. When I arrived, I parked out front—I double parked—before racing up the two flights of stairs to my apartment; with the sirens of the approaching ambulance not far off in the distance.

What I found when I burst through the door was Bella lying unconscious on the floor just inside, her face drained of all color—even her lips were deathly pale—her hair practically wet and plastered to her forehead from sweat.

"Bella!" I all but shouted as I attempted to rouse her, pulling back her closed eyelids, before checking her pulse. Her pupils were reactive to light, but her pulse was racing—it was dangerously fast—and her skin was cold; so cold there wasn't a speck of warmth within her. "Baby, can you hear me? Open your eyes!"

She didn't respond to me.

She had to be hemorrhaging, but there wasn't a sign of it anywhere. At least, until I felt her lower stomach; it was bloated and stiff. Evidence she was bleeding into her abdominal cavity, and if I had to guess she'd lost so much blood she was in hypovolemic shock.

"Stay with me, honey. I'm here!" I pleaded with her, wiping her hair back off her face, before lowering my ear to her mouth; she was breathing, but it was shallow. Tilting back her head to open her airways, I turned to Kate. "Kate, where the fuck is the ambulance?!" I demanded, my voice beyond fucking dire that Kate jumped, and for a moment only gazed at me.

"Uhm . . . close, I think," she answered, continuing to look uneasy. "Edward—what's wrong with her?"

"She's pregnant and probably bleeding fucking out!" I yelled at her, unsure why I answered—just wanting to rip my fucking hair out. "Just make sure they can fucking get in here!"

"There here!" she exclaimed as she looked down from the window before rushing to open the front door.

The paramedics weren't from my station, but I still knew them, and they knew me. Even still, they wouldn't let me ride in the back of the ambulance with her; I had to sit up front, because "she was too critical, and I was too close", they said. But I still knew when she crashed. I knew when she stopped breathing; I knew when they bagged and artificially ventilated her; I knew the ECG was showing her heart was in ventricular fibrillation and she was in cardiac arrest; I heard them rip her shirt from her to use the defibrillator; and when the paramedic started chest compressions on her I knew it couldn't get any worse.

I heard them use codes and language that I could translate, letting me know she wasn't responding. She was apneic and was in asystole; she wasn't breathing and her heart was showing no signs of activity, and their attempts to revive her were failing.

I was losing her, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I was strapped to the front seat of the ambulance, completely fucking powerless, while she was slipping through my fingers.

The only thing I could do was pray. Pray to whoever the fuck was listening, to not take her, that if I lost her now, when I'd only just found her again, it would kill me as well. I begged her over and over to stay with me. To not leave me; that I couldn't survive without her—that she was the fucking air I breathed.

They took her to Harborview Medical Center, and I watched fucking helplessly as they rushed her lifeless body into Emergency, with an urgency that was not often seen; even for paramedics. I felt like I was fucking suspended, as I reefed both my hands rigidly back through my hair, I couldn't look away. She was grey, and one of her arms hung limply from the side of the gurney, and despite the paramedic who sat over her, continuing to perform CPR, there wasn't a single indication that there was a shred of life left in her.

I knew it, the EMT and paramedic who brought her in knew it, and the trauma team knew as soon as they looked at her. She'd expired.

She was gone.

The staff in Emergency, like the paramedics, knew me as well. It made their job easier, because they knew _I_ knew how serious it was. They didn't have to quote to me the usual bullshit protocol: "the doctors will do everything they can" and "she's in good hands".

But at the same time, they knew they couldn't sugarcoat it for me.

It was probably why one of the nurses quickly diverted me away, leading me to a waiting room for family of emergency patients. After all, I'd transported enough trauma patients to this very hospital to understand just how critical Bella's outlook was. They didn't want me flipping out, I guess.

The nurse asked me questions about Bella: her full name, date of birth, her family—all with the purpose to keep me distracted.

"Is there anyone you'd like us to contact?" she asked gently, just as she was about to leave.

I gave her Bella's uncle's contact details.

After a couple of minutes, the same nurse returned, but this time she held a cup of coffee that she placed in my hands.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice flat—devoid of all emotion. I couldn't fucking feel anymore. That same ache had opened itself up in my chest again. The same ache I'd lived with for six years without her. Only now it was worse than it had ever been, because if I lost her this time I'd never get her back.

"They're still working on her," she replied softly, flashing me an encouraging smile.

But I knew. I knew that look in her eyes, and I knew she'd just given me the standard fucking answer. That standard fucking answer that really meant: "they're not calling it—yet".

It pissed me off, but at the same time, I didn't have the energy to express it.

"Look . . . just tell me. . ."

She sighed, looking away from me; no doubt trying to find the right words to explain how bad Bella was while still giving me some kind of hope. When she again met my eyes hers were serious. "She's about as sick as you can get."

She left, and I only stood, holding the paper cup absently in my hand, staring at the fucking wall.

Twice I'd got Bella pregnant, and twice it almost killed her. Only this time, I think I may have succeeded. . .

For the next forty minutes I sat, I paced, I pulled my fucking hair out and I beat my head against the wall, but I still heard nothing. I had to keep telling myself it had to be a positive sign, that they were able to restart her heart and get her breathing, and were preparing her for surgery. But the silence was fucking killing me.

I drank one disgusting coffee after another, if only to distract myself, and was heading out to the coffee machine for the fourth time in thirty minutes when I practically collided with Kate.

"Hey," I blurted in surprise, "what are you doing here?"

"I had to see how you were . . . I've never seen you like that before, Edward," she confessed, and for a moment she just stared at me as if she had no idea who I was.

I only gazed back at her in complete confusion. I had no fucking idea what she was on about, but then did I ever? "Thanks . . . Kate," I mumbled. "If you didn't come to the apartment, I would have gone to the drug store first. . ." I abandoned it, not fucking wanting _that_ "what if" in my head.

She only smiled, half shrugging in almost understanding, before asking, "How is she?"

"She's . . . not good," I answered, running both my hands down my face, before again sitting myself back down in one of the chairs in the room.

"Well, I'm going to light a candle in the chapel in a moment, would you like to join me?" she offered.

"No . . . but thanks," I replied, shaking my head, before dropping it in my palms. I was exhausted and fucking defeated, but I had to hold strong. How did I expect Bella to fight if I couldn't?

"Okay." I heard her sigh to herself, before she placed her hand on my shoulder. "I understand now, Edward—why you were never . . . _plugged in_."

She left, but I remained—in the fucking hospital chair, in this empty room, waiting. It was all I could do: wait. Wait for them to tell me she was gone, that she was never meant to be mine; that I had been trying to hold onto an illusion, a fantasy, since the very moment I'd met her.

With everything I was—everything I'd ever been—I'd tried to hold onto her, when the universe, God, fucking fate—whatever you want to call it—had always been against us. Tearing me apart from her over and over, and ripping our unborn babies from her body.

There was a knock on the door.

"Edward . . . ?" my name was spoken apprehensively.

I looked up; it was the same nurse. I think she'd told me her name. Bridget . . .

"Y-yeah?" I stammered, my voice all but failing. I could barely breathe, but then I was almost instinctively holding my breath, while my heart started fucking seizing. Though my mind kept telling me, repeatedly, that if Bella had died it would be a doctor who'd tell me. Not a nurse—a doctor.

She sat beside me, and smiled—not a condolences smile. It was just a fucking smile. "I've come to give you an update."

"Okay. . ." I immediately straightened up.

"We've managed to stabilize her for surgery. She needed quite a lot of blood, but we have identified the source of the bleeding. She's . . ." she paused, to practically scoff to herself in what seemed like . . . disbelief, her smile broadening, "she's definitely a fighter."

I nodded, releasing my breath as my shoulders slumped forward, almost bursting into fucking tears. The relief was flooding me, but I didn't want to get too ahead of myself. Not yet. "She is," I agreed, my voice choked, before expelling past the urge to almost laugh by how fucking poetic it was. Until, I remembered. "I . . . I guess she lost the baby . . . ?" It was a statement. I was expecting it, after all.

The smile again, but this time it _was_ out of condolence. She nodded slowly, inevitably. "Yes, she did. I'm so sorry. The emergency doctor will be in soon to explain it more."

I only nodded, feeling that gut wrenching ache converge on me again, but at the same time becoming distracted. Because how was I going to tell her she'd lost another baby? It would break her heart, so how the hell could I hurt her like that again?

When the nurse left, I lost it; I fell completely fucking apart. I was sobbing; sobbing so fucking much I felt like I was drowning.

My phone rang, and in that moment, it was the only thing that pulled me up out of it.

With my hands fucking shaking I wrangled it out of my front pocket, and checked the I.D.

It was Alice.

Out of irony, or whatever the fuck it was, I laughed dryly to myself, before answering it and placing it against my ear.

"Edward," the little rat's anxious sounding voice burst through the receiver, in that high pitched fucking tone of hers, "please don't be angry at me for calling, but I just need to know you're okay—I've been having this God-awful feeling!"

And I don't know what it was; whether it was the fact that every day I struggled to separate the sheer livid fucking anger I had for her, over the fact that despite everything I still missed her; that it fucking killed me that she'd betrayed me, almost as much as it did to see Bella so hurt by it. Or that she had once been a source of support for me—especially when it came to Bella; that she'd been my one and only ally. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was hearing a familiar voice in the wake of what was happening, because the moment she stopped speaking I cracked.

"I'm fine, Alice, but Bella—Bella isn't!" And just the act of speaking it aloud broke me open more.

"Oh, God, Edward—what happened!?" The pitch of her voice rose and I could hear the panic in it, and it only fucked with me more. It made it more real and more fucking brutal.

"She was pregnant—" I began before my voice broke, and forcing my hand back through my hair, I stood up from the chair again. My legs were suddenly restless; I needed to keep moving. "She was pregnant," I started over, "and she hemorrhaged."

"Oh God, again. . ." Alice whispered, sounding like she was speaking it more to herself than she was to me. "Is she . . . okay?"

I inhaled back my tears roughly, before almost scoffing at how fucking ridiculous that question was. "She crashed en route and was asystole on arrival."

"_Shit_!" her voice wavered. "But they got her back, right?!"

"They got her back. She's in surgery now," I answered, hearing her immediately exhale heavily in obvious relief.

"Edward . . . is there anyone with you—d-do you want me to come there?" she asked, her tone rising with uncertainty.

"No!" I burst, immediately. "I _don't_ want you to come, Alice!" I didn't sound rational, I knew it, but I didn't want to see her. At the same time . . . I needed to keep hearing her voice.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. . ." she burst into tears, and it only pissed me off more.

"Jesus, Alice! Stop fucking apologizing!" My anger at her only made me feel unstable. I was shaking and starting to fucking crumble again.

"I don't know what else to do to make it right. I just wish. . ." she relented, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, Edward. I'll let you go."

"Alice!" I blurted, in sudden panic. "Wait!"

"What is it?" she whispered, sounding despondent.

I took a heavy breath, attempting to swallow past the fucking tears. "Just . . . don't go yet. . ."

The little rat was crying. Really fucking sobbing and it was starting to compromise me more to hear it. "Edward, I know I'm not your favorite person right now—or ever, but just know that I'll always be here if you need me."

"Alice, why didn't you talk to me? Even after a couple of years—if you'd just explained it to me. . ." I asked her—I fucking pleaded with her. "I would have been so fucking happy to have her back again that I would have forgiven you," I admitted, wiping my hand down my face to dry it, attempting to pull my fucking self together for a moment.

"I . . . know. . ." she sobbed. "I just remember being so scared for you, Edward. That we were going to lose you before you could . . . get a handle on you and Bella, and Bella was my best friend, and she was just so hurt. It doesn't make any sense anymore, and I can't defend myself because I should have never put myself between you two. I knew it could have come to this, but I was a coward, and I was selfish. I underestimated how significant Bella was to you—and so did Mom. And I don't blame you one bit for hating me, because I deserve to lose you both."

I stood and listened as the tears poured down my face, but I couldn't stop them. Because everything was just fucking falling apart, that I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to do. "I was a fuck up of a kid, Alice—I always was, but what you did was personal! You_ lied_ to me! You lied to me with the sole purpose of fucking hurting me. You broke my trust, Alice—and you broke Bella's. And she was innocent in all of it!"

I stopped abruptly, yanking the phone away from my ear, to get myself under control, because I felt like I was falling; it was overwhelming me and I was losing my focus.

There was only one thing that mattered—not Alice, or how I felt about her—or my fucking mother, but Bella. She was the only one who'd ever mattered to me, and I just needed to know she was going to pull through this. Because if she didn't I wouldn't be able to go on without her. I knew what it was like to exist without her, but even during the darkest moments of the last six years, I still knew she was alive in the world somewhere. It had been enough to keep me going, even if I was just half living, but if she was truly gone. . .

"Alice . . ." I said, returning the phone to my ear.

"Yes?" she said softly, so fucking softly I could barely hear her.

"I-if I lose her, it will be the end of me," I confessed to her, my voice completely breaking. "Because you know more than anyone that I cannot function without her."

For a moment she didn't say anything, and the only thing I could hear was the sound of her tears.

"I know. . ." she eventually whispered, sounding too fucking heartbroken that I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I have to go," I said hastily, before hanging up, and just as the emergency doctor came into the room, watching me closely.

He extended his hand, introducing himself, looking tired and weary, "I'm Dr. Greene. I treated Isabella—"

"Bella," I corrected him, quickly explaining, "She hates being called Isabella."

"Bella," he amended, smiling to himself, before his expression turned serious again. "Bella's in surgery. The bleeding was due to a tubal pregnancy, and unfortunately once the fallopian tube ruptures the pregnancy is no longer viable."

Despite the fact that I was expecting it, and it shouldn't have surprised me, it still hit me like a fucking sledge hammer. Taking a heavy breath, I placed my hands on my hips, my gaze falling to the ground, feeling my heart fucking lag. It was what she'd feared would happen again, and because the world was that fucking cruel, it had. "Yeah. . ." was all I could respond with.

"You're a Tri-Med paramedic, aren't you?" he suddenly asked.

I looked up, answering, "Yeah—well I'm at Olympic now."

"I've seen you transport patients here a few times, so you would have understood how dire Bella's situation was."

"Yes," I admitted quietly, my pulse quickening, unsure—and beginning to fucking panic—by what he was preparing me for.

"Bella has roughly eight pints of blood in her body. She lost six—that _should have been_ incompatible with life, and she arrested several times. By rights she shouldn't be here, but she wants to be."

For a moment I just stared at him, unsure how I was supposed to feel—whether I was supposed to be happy, relieved or fucking horrified—and on top of everything, I was gutted that she'd lost the baby the same way as the first; knowing how much it was going to break her heart. But I was still in so much fucking panic for her, that I could barely process anything else.

"Is she . . . going to make it?" I eventually put it to him. It wasn't fucking easy to ask that question, but I had to.

"We won't know more until she gets out of surgery, but she's stubborn."

I snorted shortly, breaking into a smile despite myself, because that was the understatement of the century. "She's stubborn, all right."

She was fighting; it was all I could really focus on at the moment. It's all I was capable of.

"Can . . . can she still have babies?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"There's no reason she can't. At the moment it depends on whether the OBG can save her ruptured tube; otherwise, there are other options. IVF, for example," he explained, matter-of-factly that it gave me hope. Something I could hang onto to give to Bella. Something that wouldn't completely break her.

I nodded again, but honestly I was so fucking overrun I wasn't sure I was even coming across as coherent.

"Thanks." I threw him a semi-courteous smile.

**...**

Bella was in surgery for roughly an hour when I heard the door to the room again open; only this time it was sudden.

I'd been sitting slumped in the chair, my face buried in my hands, willing Bella to get through this—willing this fucking nightmare to end—when I looked up.

It was Rose, and for a moment she only stood in the doorway, gazing down at me with this strange fucking look of concern etched into her face.

"Rose. . ." I said, surprised. "H-how . . . ?"

She sat next to me, explaining as she did, "It got back to Emmett, and then . . . Alice called me, near hysterical."

I only nodded, conceding, before again lowering my head to rest my forehead in my palm.

"I hear she's in trouble," she said, tactfully, before expelling her breath.

"She's in trouble. . ." I validated, pressing my fingers deeper into my brow.

"Alice started spewing out all these medical terms. I forget sometimes—with her _Reggae_ lifestyle"—she smirked to herself—"that she's still a registered nurse."

I exhaled shortly into a small smile, but didn't say anything.

"But . . . I gathered she's pregnant and the same thing as last time has happened," she concluded, her tone softening.

And again, I could feel myself becoming choked, and I couldn't fucking avoid it. "Yeah . . . that's pretty much what happened. She lost the baby and bled out."

"Shit. . ." she whispered, sighing breathily, before slinging her arm over my shoulders. "Well, you know what you have to do, don't you?" she asked, her tone turning light.

"What's that?"

"Stop knocking her up," she teased me, before nudging my shoulders.

And despite myself, and the fucking tears that were once more spilling down my cheeks, this brief, fractured laugh came out of me. "You're probably right," I admitted, wiping my palm down my face.

There was a pause, where neither one of us spoke, before she asked, with uncertainty, "Is she in surgery?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, nodding.

"You think Carlisle would have checked the other tube—I mean, to be safe," she seemed to speculate, more or less to herself.

I could feel my expression darken. "Carlisle wouldn't know if I was up him," I replied, lowly.

She snorted, chuckling. "Do you know how much you sound like her sometimes?"

I only broke into a slight, sheepish grin, but it was fleeting.

She nudged me again. "Remember in senior year when you started using all her _colloquialisms_, and how much crap Emmett gave you over it?"

I laughed fully this time; the bastard was always giving me shit, but most of all about Bella. "Yeah. . ."

"Well, tell her if she wants a baby, I'll gladly give her mine," she joked again, making me almost continually laugh.

"How is E.J, anyway? I haven't seen him in months?" I asked, turning to look at her this time.

"Oh god. . ." she muttered in answer. "How long do I have until he's in college?"

I chuckled again, beneath my breath, before I thudded her knee playfully with my closed fist. "Thanks, Rose. My idiot brother doesn't deserve you."

"Of course he doesn't," she answered as if it went without saying.

Rose stayed with me in that depressing fucking room that had been beginning to feel like a cell. Her presence was a distraction that helped the time go faster while making me laugh with that dry sense of humor she had. She talked about Bella as she remembered her in high school; reminding me again of moments I'd long forgotten. When Bella got suspended on the first day of senior year for slamming her Math book into Jessica Stanley's face and breaking her nose. The time in the cafeteria when I was mocking her so much about her Australianisms that she snapped and threw her chocolate milk all over me. When Bella flattened that prick Newton—though I wasn't at school to witness that one.

Of course, it sparked memories about her that had once crippled me to think about, and memories I really wanted to forget. The first was the weeks after the first miscarriage Bella suffered, before she went to Australia. She barely spoke to me—in fact, she could barely look at me. It had started a panic in me that had become a realization when she didn't return. That I'd finally pushed her away.

The second happened only a couple of months before. I'd taken her to The Georgian, a posh French restaurant to propose to her. Yeah, at nineteen I'd decided I was going to finally ask her. Naturally, she was immediately suspicious, and as soon as we sat down and the waiter disappeared, she turned to me with a typically cynical expression merging with her smile. "What's this all about, Edward? You're not going to propose to me or anything, are you?"

She was joking, of course, but I immediately faltered, almost giving it a fucking way in that moment.

"Jesus, you're a pain in the ass. Can't I just take my woman to a fancy restaurant without a motive?" I'd covered just in time, knowing exactly what to say to throw her off.

She snorted, half smirking to herself before she picked up the menu. "I'm your _woman_, am I?"

It had worked, but because Bella—even then, after two years of being together—still made me as uncertain about fucking everything as she'd always done, I stalled and second guessed myself. I didn't ask her to marry me that night, or any night after. I still had the ring, though. After I thought she'd left me I thought about getting rid of it, but I'd stored it away, along with everything else that reminded me of her.

"I_ knew_ something fishy was going on," Rose suddenly mused; obviously thinking about the fucking lie Alice had spun to me to keep me and Bella apart. "Bella _always_ forgave you; it just didn't seem like her to cut you out like that."

"She forgave me for way too much," I mumbled, dropping my head to run my fingers back through my hair. I didn't deserve her back then, and I wasn't even sure I did now.

"She really did," Rose agreed, grinning quickly, before promptly getting to her feet. "Okay, I can't stand this putrid filtered coffee for another moment. There's a Starbucks around the corner—what do you want?"

"I don't care," I replied, shrugging my shoulder at the same time.

"All right, be back in ten," she said simply, throwing her handbag over her shoulder and walking out.

Before she returned Jazz turned up, immediately coming over to me to fucking hug me.

"Dude. . ." was all he said, without letting me go.

I practically had to shove him from me. I wasn't upset he'd come, but at the same time he irritated me.

"What are you doing here?" I muttered, turning my head from him to rub my forehead, agitated.

"Dude, I had to come. How is she?" he asked, before taking the seat beside me.

"She's hanging on," I answered.

He placed his hand behind my neck and it was all I could do not to jerk it off. The last thing Jazz had said to me was if I fucked up Alice's wedding day he'd never speak to me again. Yeah, a fucking week after she came clean on the fact that she'd completely fucked me for six years. It was only because it was _his_ wedding day that I didn't lay the bastard out flat, but I hadn't spoken a word to him since.

"Dude, I'm really sorry . . . about everything. . ." he said a moment later, almost beneath his breath, that I turned to him; gazing at him for several seconds.

"What does it matter now," I said eventually, an edge of bitterness in my voice, but feeling almost as fucking defeated as I did pissed off.

When Rose returned, carrying a tray of coffee, she blatantly threw Jazz a warning glare. "If you attempt to defend your wife at any time while you are here, I will personally throw your ass out. You got that?" she threatened him, not even remotely joking, before shoving one of the several coffees she'd bought into his hand, almost begrudgingly. "Here, she told me you were coming."

"I had no intention of it!" he protested, unable to conceal the fact that he visibly shrank away from her.

I smirked subtly to myself, before bringing the coffee Rose had passed me, to my lips. She winked at me, covertly, making me almost laugh out loud, but it didn't last. It wasn't long until there was nothing more to be said, and the three of us fell into silence.

It was enough that they were beside me, that I wasn't alone.

…

It was another hour before Bella was out of surgery. Another brutally painful fucking hour that flooded my mind with every scenario possible. That she wouldn't survive. Or, she would survive, but would be infertile and it would change her; it would kill that girl I loved regardless. That no matter what, I'd end up losing her in the end.

The reality wasn't as pessimistic, and when the OBGYN walked in the room he smiled at me.

"It was dicey there for a moment, but everything went well. She's in recovery and she'll probably spend the next twenty-four hours in ICU," he relayed to me, placing his hand on my shoulder when I almost fucking dropped.

"Jesus. . ." was all I could utter, as absolute, sheer fucking relief flooded through me. Again, I almost burst into fucking tears, swaying on my feet. In fact, it was everything I could do to hold them back, and pull myself together before I could even look at him again. "Thank you," I eventually spoke, nodding, my voice thick and compromised.

His smile warmed, before he explained further, "We were able to save her fallopian tube; though, it does have a midsection obstruction. But considering she was able to fall pregnant, I think her chances of a successful tubal cannulation are good."

"Do you mean clearing out her tube?" Rose asked from behind me.

His gaze shifted to her, before he nodded. "It will clean out her tube, that's correct," he answered, before turning back to me. "I'll go through all this with her in a few days, but for now she just needs to rest and get her strength back."

Code for: don't upset her, yet.

It was something I was going to delay for as long as fucking possible.

"Can I see her?" I asked, roughly clearing the emotion in my throat.

"That should be fine. I'll send one of the ICU nurses to get you soon." And shaking my hand, throwing me an empathetic smile, he left.

Taking one momentous breath, I released it before sitting back down and dropping my head in my hands. I was overrun and shaking. I couldn't stop it; it wasn't just the relief that she'd made it, or the emotions over the last several hours; it was the last six years of my fucking life, and everything I'd felt or refused to feel, crashing back over me, overwhelming me, and fucking breaking me down.

That first night we'd found each other again, Bella had released it, but I hadn't. Not until now.

It all hit, all at once; a thousand emotions, ripping me in every direction, tearing my heart to shreds. It was so fucking soul destroying, and I was completely defenseless against it, but at the same time, it was releasing me. Freeing me from all the pain and anger that had been controlling me—dictating everything I did or said. Or felt.

"Dude, you okay? I heard Jazz ask, his hand dropping down around my shoulders.

I didn't answer, I couldn't. This shit was strangling me for the moment, and I couldn't get a handle on it, but at the same time, the longer it lasted the more unburdened I felt.

Rose said nothing, she just sat beside me and held my hand in both of hers until it completely left me. I felt like a fucking pussy, but at the same time, I was grateful; grateful for the last two hours she'd stayed with me. She'd kept me surprisingly anchored and together. I used to always think she was self-centered and superficial, but there was definitely a depth in her that contradicted me, and to date she was the only person in my family to apologize for what had happened without trying to bury it under some kind of justification.

Releasing my hand from hers, I pushed the heel of it into my brow, becoming frustrated, attempting to force the fucking tears to stop. This is when I heard her speak to Jazz, her voice soft, but at the same time, with an intensity I could understand.

"If your wife wants to know exactly how her actions affected her brother, you tell her about this moment!"

* * *

**A/N: let the flames commence! You know the drill, review if you like (I like to receive them, not going to lie), but as always thanks for reading. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, guys. It just would not speak to me!**

* * *

In the blink of an eye  
Just a whisper of smoke  
You could lose everything  
The truth is you never know

So I'll kiss you longer baby  
Any chance that I get  
I'll make the most of the minutes and love with no regrets

**Like I'm Gonna Lose you - Meghan Trainor ft. John Legend**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 18**

**Edward's POV**

A paramedic cannot pronounce a person as deceased en route to the hospital; we have to keep working on them until they're handed over to the Emergency doctors. But we know; we know when a person is beyond help and our efforts are in vain. I'd transported several cardiac arrest patients with zero vital signs, only to have them pronounced D.O.A. I knew what it looked like—we all did.

Bella was D.O.A. Her ECG showed a virtual flatline; her heart had stopped, and I'd seen how lifeless she'd been. Where ever the hell she was at that moment, it wasn't in her body, and I'd honest to God thought I'd lost her.

Most people believe when a person's heart stops a doctor will just shock it back into starting again; it doesn't work like that. To use the defibrillator, a patient's heart has to be in a certain rhythm. Bella's had none, and the odds of recovering a person in that position are low. The only alternative is chest compressions, and CPR is fucking brutal. The chest has to be compressed a third of its depth, one hundred times a minute.

It's an image that will never leave my mind; the paramedic sitting over Bella—her chest stripped naked—using all his strength to repeatedly push in her sternum to massage her heart, while the force of it jerked her limp body up and down until my blood had run cold. It was almost impossible to fucking bear. I've had every bodily fluid that exists spilled over me, but seeing Bella like this . . . I'd almost lost it.

The CPR had broken two of her ribs, the ICU nurse delicately informed me as she led me in to see her. I only cringed; I should have expected it, but honestly, I was too fucking_ beyond_ tormented to really process it right at that moment.

I'm not sure what I expected to see, but as soon as my eyes fell on Bella, I immediately felt myself waver, almost breaking down again for God knows how many times that day. She was lying, slightly reclined, in the hospital bed, asleep. They'd told me they were going to keep her pretty much out of it for the night, but considering what she'd just been through, I didn't expect her to look so . . . peaceful.

She was wearing a nasal cannula, had an I.V inserted, and several heart monitors were attached to her chest beneath the loosely tied gown over her, but other than that there wasn't any indication of how close to death she'd come—how close I'd come to losing her. Or how battered her little body was beneath the surface of her skin.

I took her hand—awkwardly, afraid that any sudden movement would disturb her, before bending down to press my lips against her forehead. Her skin was warm, a little too warm, maybe, but she didn't stir; other than her chest that rose and fell steadily, she didn't move.

"I'm here, sweetie pie, honey bunch. . ." I murmured softly against her brow, teasing her like I normally would have done, before stubbornly wiping away the tears that were continuing to fucking fall down my face.

I half expected her to roll her eyes to herself, thinking what a giant dickhead I was—like she always did—but I was met by silence; just the beeping of the heart monitor that overshadowed the faint sound of her breathing. And I knew it'd be hard to continually convince myself she was just asleep, because Bella was possibly the world's worst sleeper. She tossed and turned constantly during the night; usually waking me up repeatedly in the process.

Sitting down in the chair the nurse had provided for me, without letting go of her hand, I dropped my forehead to the mattress beside her. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally fucking shattered, but there was no way I'd be able to sleep—not yet. I was too on edge by what had happened—what I'd witnessed—and not even remotely ready to relax and let myself believe she was going to be okay.

Regardless, I closed my eyes, giving in to the exhaustion for a moment, with the constant sound of the ECG following me into the darkness that followed. A reassurance if nothing else.

I'm not sure how long I was asleep for when I was woken by a hand that came down to rest on my shoulder. Lifting my head groggily from the hospital bed, I turned to see Bella's uncle gazing down at me.

I stood, a little too hastily, releasing Bella's hand to wipe both of mine on my pants before extending one out to him. "Chief Swan."

He took it easily, his breath leaving him in a gush that sounded just as fucking weary as he looked. "Edward."

"I-I'm sorry," I uttered, unsure why I did. Maybe it was my guilt subconsciously acknowledging how much grief I'd caused her over the years—without even mentioning the fact that I'd placed her in this situation twice now. Something her uncle was well aware of. To be honest I couldn't understand why he didn't fucking end me. If Bella was my daughter I would have well before this point, but instead, he only reached out a second time to grip my shoulder, as if in solidarity. As if silently conveying to me that he understood . . . how much I loved her.

"Don't worry about that now," he said to me, his voice thickening, before his eyes broke from mine to fall on Bella. His forehead ridged heavily, openly showing how much it pained him to see her like this.

I left, giving him time with Bella, before making my way back to the waiting room where I found Jake sitting down in one of the chairs, his head in his hands; his girlfriend beside him.

He looked up when I entered, his expression not as forgiving as his father's, but I soon discovered his anger wasn't directed at me.

"Why didn't that _father _of yours warn her that this could happen again?" he demanded.

Sitting beside him on the chairs, I shook my head, before taking a labored breath, because I really did not fucking know. "He-he never checked the rest of. . ." I didn't elaborate. It wasn't something I really wanted to go into detail with Jake, after all—his cousin's reproductive system.

"Fuck me," he whispered, running his palms down his face before turning fully to me. "You know they told Dad that Bella was unlikely to survive? I never saw him go so white in my entire life."

I only nodded. They hadn't said as much to me; it wasn't as if they needed to, though.

We sat in silence; what was there to talk about, after all? How my spawn had come close to killing Bella again? Or how it didn't seem likely that Bella would ever be able to conceive my babies? How the universe seemed determined to place as many obstacles and fucking heart ache in our path—for what reason I would never understand.

I was on the verge of admitting it to myself, even if it was subconscious—that maybe Bella and I were never destined to be—when Jake's heavy arm draped over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, man. I know what she means to you."

He did. I'd told him myself—every last detail, on the side of the road the night he'd pulled his tow truck alongside my car, got out and sucker punched me. I'd told him all of it; how much I loved her, how my sister had torn her away from me; and how much it had fucked with me—every waking minute I was apart from her. How I was unable to live, breathe—fucking exist without her.

"Yeah. . ." I mumbled; it was all I could manage.

"What's with the fancy digs?" Jake asked me after a couple of minutes of silence, nudging me in emphasis.

I glanced down at the suit I was still wearing, forgetting I had it on. This morning Bella had tied my tie, and now. . .

"I had an interview with Olympic Ambulance today," I explained, dropping my head to my hand and running my fingers through my hair; wishing I could rid myself of this edginess.

"At P A?" he added, raising his brows, seeming to appraise it.

"Yeah."

"You get it?"

"Uh—yeah. I start in a couple of weeks." I shrugged, my voice impassive. It wasn't that I didn't give a shit; I just wasn't up for this kind of conversation. Or talking in general.

And seeming to realize this Jake went quiet, staring off into empty space, while my gaze shifted to the floor and remained there. Every so often he'd nudge me, or slap me on the back—stupid shit to let me know he was there, because after, God knows how many years, Jake had finally accepted me in his cousin's life. And if I was being honest I preferred him here beside me than I had Jazz earlier. Jake might have been a lot of things, but he would never have lied to Bella to get me out of her life. As much as he hated me in the past, he'd still tolerated me because of her. He'd never dragged Bella into his issues with me.

When Bella's uncle returned from the ICU, Jake went in to see her. The Chief sat with me for a few minutes in an awkward kind of silence—though he appeared more absorbed by his own thoughts—before he abruptly stood up.

"I'd better call Bella's father," he briefly explained to me before he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and left the room.

This left me alone with Leah; I'd completely forgotten she was in the room.

Turning to her, I threw her a small smile; she returned it immediately, but not without an edge of uncertainty.

Something she then elaborated on.

"You know, when you and Bells were together in high school I thought you were a bit of a dick," she said candidly without fucking faltering to the point that for a moment I wasn't sure how to respond.

I eventually laughed, shortly, ironically. "I _was _a dick."

"Yeah . . . but when she came back from Australia and you and her were no longer together . . . something happened to her. We could all see it, but no one wanted to say what it was—much less tell her."

Immediately curious, I focused my attention more intently on her. "What do you mean . . .?"

She shrugged as if she wasn't sure how to explain it. "When the two of you were together, Sad Bella—that's what Jake and I called her, Sad Bella, lost in the past"—I nodded, knowing exactly what she was referring to—"Well, Sad Bella was gone when she was with you. Even though Jake didn't like you and I thought you were a total douche"—

Jesus.

—"she was always happy and . . . anchored. Do you get me?"

I only nodded, awkwardly. This girl really needed a lesson in tact. . .

"Billy and her father didn't like you either" —I could only rub my forehead, fucking uncomfortably—"but they didn't have to worry about her like they did after yous two broke up. It was like she was drifting and lost again. And even when she was happy and it looked like she'd moved on, she really wasn't. She was always Sad Bella. Until you came back. . ."

I nodded again, because I understood exactly what she meant.

She continued, "It's not like Bella needs a guy in her life to be happy, because you know what she's like—she doesn't depend on anyone, and even when she was with Sam it wasn't the same. She was still Sad Bella. . ." she paused again, as if searching for the right words to better explain it, while all I could do was continue to massage my forehead, because this conversation was fucking disturbing. At the same time it was really hitting a nerve; she was explaining the last six years of my existence, after all. "It was like . . . she'd lost half of herself."

"Yeah . . . I know what that feels like," I mumbled, almost scoffing ironically, because even Jacob's fucking girlfriend got it, but no one in my family ever had.

"Well, anyway, that's why Jake and Billy have come around to you, because they saw straight away that as soon as you were back together she wasn't lost anymore—so you can't be that bad," she concluded, winking.

I laughed again, beneath my breath, shaking my head to myself. "Thanks."

"What does Bella say—_no worries_?"

**. . .**

After a couple of hours the Chief, Jake and Leah left. I offered them my apartment; it was the least I could do. They'd missed the last Ferry to Bainbridge Island and hotel prices in Seattle were ridiculous. Besides, it wasn't as if I was going back to my apartment any time soon.

I spent the night in the ICU beside Bella. As per hospital policy I was only supposed to stay for five minutes an hour, but the nurses made an exception for me. Though every couple of hours they forced me to take a break. Bella was still throughout the night. They'd knocked her out good; she was completely unmoving, but by early morning I noticed her, every so often, bunch up her forehead, as if she was having a bad dream. Not long after she began to stir. Her fingers moved at first, and the faintest moan left her lips, before her hand squeezed around mine. Eventually her heart rate began to accelerate, along with her breathing, before her entire face became distorted in pain.

She was waking, becoming aware of the pain, and was struggling to breathe through it. And it was making her panic.

Getting to my feet, I leaned over her, gently wiping her hair off her forehead. "I'm here, baby. Just try and relax," I assured her softly, pressing my lips briefly to her brow.

"Ed-Edwa . . . Ed. . ." she attempted to speak, whimpering, her voice hoarse and restricted. I knew only too well what trying to breathe through fractured ribs felt like. It was possibly the worst pain imaginable; this was on top of her having emergency surgery and God knows how many blood transfusions.

By this point she was gripping my hand like a vice, her entire body practically convulsing from the pain.

"Shhh don't talk, honey," I attempted to soothe her, before turning to press the button for the nurses, when one came immediately in her room.

After injecting pain killers into Bella's I.V, she almost immediately began to calm, her breathing deepening again, her heart rate leveling out.

"It'll make her pretty drowsy," the nurse explained to me, placing the oximeter back on Bella's finger, and checking all the wires and tubes coming out of her, before again leaving.

Taking her hand in mine again, I brought it to my lips, releasing my breath heavily, wearily. The beeping of the machines that were hooked up to her were my only fucking comfort. Reassuring me constantly that she was still with me—reminding me to breathe.

She dozed for about an hour this time—her hand locked steadfastly to mine—when again she began to stir.

"Ed-ward. . ." she spoke so softly that I barely heard her.

"What is it, honey?" I asked her gently, leaning forward to plant my lips to her temple.

She opened her eyes, slowly, before turning her head slightly to face me. Her eyes were as deep as they always were, but they were glazed over; almost as if she was sleepwalking and not fully lucid.

"Kel w-was with me," she said, her voice almost failing, before her eyes dipped, as if just the act of speaking exhausted her.

"Was she?" I asked her, immediately becoming choked.

She nodded, barely moving her head. "She's going to . . . take care of them for us. . ." her voice caught and she attempted to clear her throat, struggling to make her voice audible, "until they come . . . back."

"Who, baby?" I asked, bringing her hand to my lips again.

"Our girls," she answered, taking a heavy breath, her face almost softening, before her eyes once again closed.

I only smiled, as fractured as it was, before I removed one of my hands from around hers, to wipe away the fucking tears that were running down my face again. I was struggling to hold it together, and I knew I had to for her, but my heart was fucking breaking.

"Ang had her baby today," Bella added a moment later, her voice a soft murmur, her eyes remaining closed. "She named her Lilly. . ."

**. . .**

Bella was in intensive care for close to forty-eight hours before she was moved to a regular ward. For most of the first half she was in the ICU she slept. When she woke it was for only a few minutes at a time. She said a few other funny things—for instance, asking me to tell the angels to leave her alone—but for the most part she appeared content to just know I was with her. For the second half, however, the nurses made me go home and sleep. Bella was out of danger, and they were no longer as accepting of me being constantly with her.

When I returned to my apartment I discovered my fucking car had been impounded. I called Emmett to see what he could do. He knew a few people, and the asshole owed me one—or a fucking thousand—before I headed to my bedroom; picking up Bella's iPhone as I did. It was completely flat, and after plugging it in to charge I dropped down on my bed and immediately crashed, with the smell of Bella still on the pillows, on the sheets. . .

I was woken literally five minutes later to Bella's message alert. Reaching out, uncoordinated, I grabbed it from the night stand and brought it clumsily in front of me. It was from Angela with a thumbnail of a photo. Clicking it open I found myself staring for a few moments at a picture of a baby with a full head of black hair and a squished up face, asleep in Angela's arms.

**Lilly Elizabeth Cheney, 6 pounds 10 ounces, born May 26****th**** 2015 at 5:36 pm**, the message read.

She was born while Bella was in surgery, I quickly calculated. The day Bella lost our baby—because that's how fucking cruel the universe was. As for Bella knowing about it, I could only conclude her uncle or cousin had told her—even though she'd still been heavily sedated when they'd visited. . .

Shaking my head groggily—I literally couldn't grasp anything other than where I was, at that moment—I replied a quick congratulations to Angela and Ben, letting them know it was me and not Bella, before switching off her phone and letting my head thud heavily back into the pillow.

The next time I was woken up, it was several hours later to the sound of my front door being pounded on.

Dragging myself out of bed, half asleep, I reefed open the door to Emmett holding out a key.

"I brought your car back—I had to call out a locksmith," he quickly exclaimed, shoving the key into my hand.

"Thanks," I mumbled, breaking his gaze. Things hadn't really improved between me and Emmett—since I found out about Bella—either. He might not have directly lied to me, like Alice had, but his silence for the past six years still made him just as fucking complicit—and he was well aware I still felt this way.

"H-how is she?" he asked after an awkward fucking moment, where neither of us spoke, or looked at each other.

I half shrugged, before dropping my gaze to my feet. "She's going to be okay."

"Ed. . ." he spoke up sounding so uncertain that I again met his gaze, curiously. It wasn't often that Emmett ever sounded unsure of himself, after all. "I was a selfish asshole—I was caught up with my job, and with Rosie and the baby. I never once stopped to think how it had all affected you. I . . . I should have asked, you know . . . ?"

I shrugged again, once more dropping my eyes to the floor, because what the fuck did it matter now? And all I could really focus on at the moment was Bella; getting her past this and the next couple of months. With us it seemed like it was just one lot of fucking heart ache after another.

"I'm sorry, dude—really, I am," he added, and the asshole actually sounded sincere.

I nodded, begrudgingly, and more because this conversation was making me fucking uncomfortable and I really just wanted the dick to leave.

And I had to get back to the hospital.

Then, because Emmett was completely clueless when it came to taking the fucking hint—or body language in general—he took a step closer to me, and in the same movement, wrapped both his arms around me, slapping me on the back repeatedly.

I allowed it to continue for twenty seconds, or so, before I all but forcefully shoved him off me. "Okay, thanks," I muttered, attempting to close the door on him before he intercepted me.

"Rosie said that when Bella's out of hospital maybe you two can come over for dinner. EJ's been asking where you've been."

"I suppose you've been teaching him more crap to say to me?" I questioned him, breaking into a reluctant grin, because despite the fact that it was like having a line-backer jumping over me every time I visited, and that he still referred to me as "Uncle Bludge", I did kind of miss the kid.

Emmett only smirked like the asshole he was, before chuckling, slapping me once more across the middle of my back and almost sending me stumbling forward. "Anyway, what do you say?" he asked, raising his brows, and it took me a moment to recall what the fuck he was talking about again.

Releasing my breath, deliberately, I answered, "It might not be for a while, and I'm moving back to Forks in a couple of weeks."

He only quirked his brow at me this time, as though he thought I was insane. "Forks? Why the hell would you move back there?"

"Bella has her restaurant there," I explained simply.

"Jeez, is she even breaking even?" he put to me, doubtfully.

Snorting quickly, I broke into a small conceding smile. "Probably not."

**. . . **

On the morning of the third day Bella was in hospital I got a call from one of the ICU nurses telling me she'd been finally moved to the recovery wards. When I eventually found her, after being sent half way around the hospital first, she was inclined upright in the bed, with tears pouring silently down her cheeks.

"Hey. . ." I said gently to her, sitting beside her on the bed before carefully pulling her against my chest.

She only clung to me for a few moments, curling herself against me, before she appeared to almost go limp; practically collapsing back against the bed. She was still so pale. I'd never seen her so frail before, and even though the doctor told me that because of the degree of blood loss she'd had, she'd be faint and lightheaded for a few weeks, it still made me uneasy.

I knew I should have been relieved that she'd made it through everything, but I just couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"My morning sickness has gone. . ." she finally confessed in a whisper, her eyes dropping to her hands as they continued to flood with tears.

"I know, honey," I replied, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, squeezing gently.

When her eyes met mine again, her expression all but broke. "I'm sorry," she uttered so softly I wasn't sure sound even came out of her mouth, and it fucking tore my heart out.

Leaning towards her, I pressed my lips against her forehead, resting them there for a moment before again pulling back. "You have nothing to be sorry about, baby," I promised her.

She only shook her head, her face crumbling further, before her chest shuddered, involuntarily, making her immediately flinch—something that instantly rebounded through me and I almost jumped ten feet in the fucking air.

"How the hell did I get broken ribs?" she asked, genuinely confused, that I was guessing none of the nurses had filled her in on much at all.

"When you get CPR it sometimes breaks your ribs," I explained to her, wiping a strand of her hair behind her ears, glad for the most part that her focus had shifted from the baby.

This seemed to surprise her. "I got CPR . . .?"

I only nodded, feeling my brow bunch as I recalled it. "You lost so much blood that your heart stopped."

"Did they have to zap me?" she asked, and despite myself I broke into a grin, shooting it through my nose, almost laughing.

"Yes, they _zapped _you."

"Really, Edward?" she asked me cynically, a smile inching on her lips. "Even now you're going to mock me?" But she was becoming weak and her breath was shortening.

I only grinned with her for a moment, before taking a serious breath. "Do you know how close I came to losing you—don't ever do that to me again."

Reaching out, she tentatively grabbed a fist full of my shirt. "I wasn't going anywhere," she spoke, almost wryly, but she was becoming more and more out of breath. "Lay down with me. . ." She attempted to tug me closer to her.

Carefully moving the side rail down, I climbed on the bed beside her, before gently easing her against me and wrapping my arms around her.

Curling her arm over my chest she released her breath heavily, before closing her eyes. "What good am I, Edward—if I can't give you babies . . . ?" she asked after a moment, her voice softly breaking.

"Honey, we will have babies. I promise you we will," I vowed, resolutely, to her before immediately feeling a twinge in my chest. I was promising her something I wasn't sure I could follow through on, after all.

There was a chance Bella and I would never be able to have babies, but there was no way I could tell her that. Not now.

I laid with Bella as she slept, my face buried against her hair as I inhaled her in, worried—for the first time since we'd found each other again—about our future. Feeling like the odds were always fucking stacked against us.

As soon as I could tear myself away from her—she clung to me as if for her life, even when she was in the dead of sleep—I spoke to the nurses about having the OBGYN speak to her. Now that she was aware that she'd lost the baby I wanted her to have some peace of mind—to know all her options. He came just after lunch and the moment he told Bella she'd had a second ectopic pregnancy, the devastation hit her like a sledgehammer. Her eyes only widened in disbelief, her expression slowly breaking, before she burst into tears, rejecting my attempts to console her, as she buried her face in her hands.

"We were able to save the fallopian tube, so there is still a good chance you can conceive naturally," the doctor explained to her, gently but adamantly so that again Bella met his gaze.

"I don't understand—I didn't have any of the pain I had last time," she all but pleaded with him to _make_ her understand.

He smiled at her, empathetically. "Pain with an ectopic pregnancy is usually the first symptom, and it is unusual not to feel any, but I suppose it was the manner in which the fallopian tube ruptured. It was quite minimal—enough that it was able to be saved."

He further explained that she needed to have a procedure to unblock her tube; which, considering she'd already become pregnant, there was a high chance it would be successful. He also relayed various facts regarding IVF in a way that slowly made the hopelessness in Bella's eyes fade.

"The important thing to do at the moment is get better. Afterward we can book you in for laparoscopic surgery and go from there," he concluded, placing his hand over hers, and giving her a reassuring smile.

Bella only smiled in return, her expression not quite optimistic yet, but it was no longer as dejected as it was.

She watched the doctor leave the room before turning her eyes on me. She smiled, but it was injured.

Reaching out I cupped my palm to her cheek. "It'll be all right, baby," I again promised her, not feeling as confident as I sounded.

She only nodded before breaking my gaze and taking an inevitable breath. "I can't change anything by worrying about it, so I'm not going to," she said, sounding resigned and more or less to herself.

"That's my girl," I replied, and when she again met my gaze she all but broke into a smirk.

"You are such a sap," she teased me, her smile turning warm and knowing.

**. . . **

The next day Bella asked me to bring in her phone. She looked like she'd been crying all night.

"I have to see how Ang . . . and the baby are doing," she explained softly, sounding suddenly distracted.

"Lilly . . .?" I prompted her, having no fucking idea why.

Her brows rose, surprised. "Have you spoken to her?"

"She sent a photo," I mumbled.

"Is she pretty?" she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

I shrugged. "I guess, yeah."

"Edward," she sighed deeply, "you don't have to protect me, or anything. I mean bloody hell, it's not like I'm the only woman who's ever had a miscarriage—I couldn't have been more than six weeks."

I wasn't buying it, though. "I just don't want you trying to be strong, honey. You need to grieve—properly grieve."

"I lost an _idea_ of something, that's all," she insisted, but she was convincing no one.

"Bella, look at me," I instructed her, tilting her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I know how you deal with things—you pretend they're not happening, but you can't do that this time. She was alive and she was a part of us."

She only stared at me, that haunting fucking look in her eyes concentrating. "You don't know it was a girl," she said, her voice softly wavering.

"You told me she was," I replied, gently.

Her forehead immediately etched in confusion. "When?" she asked, doubtfully.

"A couple of hours after your surgery, and then you told me Angela had had her baby and her name was Lilly."

Her mouth parted, her brow bunching further, before she severed her eyes from mine, clearly attempting to process what I'd just told her. "It was just a dream," she concluded, continuing to be preoccupied by her own thoughts.

Sitting beside her on the bed again, I gently pulled her into my arms. She didn't resist—for whatever reason I thought she might—but she remained quiet and distracted for the longest time, before looking up from my chest. "Edward?"

"Hmmm," I replied, before pressing my lips quickly to her forehead.

"I . . . I didn't know Angela was having a girl. She kept the gender a secret, but she told me if she had a girl her name was going to be Sophie. I don't think I heard her ever mention the name Lilly. . ." She stared at me, intently, as if she was trying to make sense of it through me.

I opened my mouth, before shutting it again, unsure how to respond to it. "I'm not sure what to say to that, honey. . ." I finally confessed.

She continued to gaze into my eyes, appearing increasingly confused, before again laying her head against my chest. For several minutes she didn't say anything, obviously lost in thought, her hand repeatedly twisting the material of my shirt.

"Edward . . . ?"—for the second time she tilted her head to gaze up at me—"were you in a little room, with green carpet and pink flowered wallpaper, with Rosalie?"

* * *

**A/N: So, Bella had a near death experience? Do you guys believe in them?  
Thanks for reading and MWAH I love you all.  
Feel free to give me some love, or rabid disdain =P and see you next time.  
xoxo**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Okay, I've been procrastinating about this chapter for the last week. I was going to scrap it so many times. It's so "out there' for what I write and this story in general and I'm not sure it fits.  
Just an FYI I tried not to put any religious beliefs in it. It's not what I believe; it's all made up. Purely fiction. You can believe or not believe whatever you want. It's all good.  
Bloody hell. I honest to God have no idea if this is going to work, but here goes. . .**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 19**

**Bella's POV**

I dream about Kel all the time, but this time . . . it was different. It was more vivid and real than any dream I had ever had. In fact, it was more real than any memory I had of her when she was alive; more real than any experience I'd ever had in my life.

I remember the darkness envelop me, and Edward's voice calling my name through the shroud of it, until there was nothing. It wasn't dark or light, and there was no sound. It was just . . . void. Only it appeared to surround me, almost like a blanket, and it had a texture to it, carrying me toward a tiny speck of light that appeared far off in the distance. As I got closer I realised the source of light was some kind of star. It was a brilliant white, and brighter than anything I had ever seen; only it didn't hurt my eyes to look at it. I approached it at a speed I couldn't fathom, but it didn't scare me; in fact, it was the opposite. I welcomed it, becoming almost transfixed, mesmerised by the sight of it; by the absolute purest warmth I could feel emanating from it. It was as if it was a living, breathing, feeling entity all on its own, that was calling to me. Calling me home.

"Edward!" I heard my own voice shout, as if outside of my consciousness, independent of me, in an urgency that made me immediately hesitate.

"Edward?" I called this time, in a growing panic; though, I didn't physically speak it. It was merely a thought that manifested as the sound of my voice.

In growing confusion, I reached up and placed my fingertips against my lips; only I felt nothing. My hands came into contact with nothing but space. Where my lips were meant to be—where my entire face was supposed to be—was . . . emptiness.

I held out my hands before me—my panic for the first time growing into real fear—but my hands, my arms, were no longer flesh, but light. Millions of particles of light that formed the shape of them, and that moved and sparkled as if each and every one of them was alive.

This is when I understood; I understood what it meant if I went into the light, and this is when I turned away.

I blinked; at least it appeared that I blinked, and just as quickly as my eyes reopened I realised I was standing in an open field, full of the greenest grass I had ever seen, and wild flowers. The light remained in the distance, as if it was the sun sitting low on the horizon; carrying the warmth of it on a breeze that swept all around me.

It was love, and joy, and happiness—every positive emotion that I had ever felt, magnified so greatly it literally overwhelmed me.

I gazed all around me; the colours were so intense, unlike colours I had ever seen before. Colours that did not exist in reality; vivid and animated, surreal but so incredibly familiar.

It was then a figure appeared from within the light, and began to approach me. Instinctively, and without fear I moved closer; feeling the grass graze softly against my bare feet as I did. I glanced down; each blade and each petal on every flower glistened in the light, swaying away from me as I walked; as if it too was alive and conscious.

As the person got closer, walking at an easy pace, I quickly realised it was a young woman. A woman as an older version of someone I had once known. A woman with a bright, familiar smile lighting up across her face—her face that had matured. Had aged.

But how?

As her face came into focus I ran toward her, my heart feeling like it was about to burst from my chest, my breath instantly leaving me as the pure emotion of it left me literally gasping. I threw my arms around her; she was warm, her skin soft and pliable—real. Alive.

"Kel—you got older," I burst, grabbing one of her hands and holding it up to inspect. There wasn't a single blemish on it, a single line or imperfection, but she was as real as I had remembered her. More real, in fact, than I could ever recall.

"Of course I did," she replied, her tone warm. "Who wants to remain seventeen forever—and I knew you'd recognise me." She held up my own hand then, for me to scrutinize. Like hers it was as equally perfect. No freckles or blotches—no faint scar Renee had given me by tearing her nails down my flesh when I was nine. Just pure, flawless skin.

"_BELLA!_"

Jumping in reflex, I immediately spun around, looking for him.

It was Edward. Edward's voice, full of a very real, consuming fear, penetrating through the fabric of this world, rebounding and echoing off every surface all around us; causing almost shock waves that made the grass, the flowers and trees—even the distant snow peaked mountains—pulse beneath it.

"Edward. . ." I whispered, as the stirrings of panic wrapped itself around my heart. I could almost smell him in the air. Feel him. . .

When I turned back to Kel she appeared surprised, but a troubled look began to encroach on her features. When she met my gaze she shook her head, only fractionally as if it continued to plague her, before she appeared to push it from her mind. "I know your answer, Bells, but I have to ask."

"Ask me what . . . ?" I was distracted. I could still hear Edward; his voice calling me repeatedly in my mind. I was beginning to feel the separation from him, and an emptiness was opening up in my heart.

"Do you want to stay?"

"Here?" I asked, glancing around me again.

"No, not here exactly—Bella!" her tone suddenly hardened, forcing my distracted thoughts back to her. "Bells, with _me_."

I shook my head before conscious thought instructed me to do so, again gazing around me; searching for him. "I can't, Kel—that was Edward! Where is he?"

There was only silence, before I again met Kel's, now unsettled, gaze.

"Kel . . . ?" I pressed her.

"I'm not going to lie, Bells. He's not in a good place right now," she answered with a heavy sigh, her smile almost appearing disheartened.

"I died, didn't I?" It was a statement, though; I already knew the answer.

"Yeah. . ." she admitted, softly.

"But I can go back?" I said, a gathering of hope building within me.

She smiled again, knowingly this time. "You have every intention of going back."

"I-I have to. . ." I whispered, pleading with her to understand; though, it appeared she already did.

"Bells, it's okay." She chuckled softly. "I knew . . . you'd never leave him."

"I _can't_ leave him," I stressed, unsure why as Kel's grin broadened. But I literally couldn't. It was an overwhelming, driving force that seemed to dwell within every particle of my very being; to be with him. And I felt it more deeply now than I had ever felt it before—along with a panic that was becoming almost suffocating the more I realised how separated I was from him.

"Bells, you're preaching to the converted," she said lightly, her head tilting as she paused in thought for a moment. "You don't understand it, even now, do you?"

I faltered, before asking, curiously, "Understand what?"

"Edward—and why every part of your soul craves him. Why it always has," she answered, taking my hand as she began to lead me back through the meadow, away from the light.

"What—is he my . . . _soulmate_?" I asked, suddenly feeling ridiculous; though Kel only shrugged simply, as if it wasn't ridiculous at all.

"That's the word that's used on earth. Though, it's not quite right," she explained, as the world and all its vividness and life slowly faded away, for the sterile coldness of—what I quickly realised was—the interior of a hospital.

Kel continued to lead me through the corridors of the hospital, to where, I wasn't sure. We passed hundreds of people, but it was as if they were in fast forward; bodies who flew by us as mere streaks of shadow and light. Many passed straight through us, none of them aware of our presence—none seeing us—until we stopped in front of a room. It was a small room with a wall of glass on the outfacing side, with a glass door. Inside was a man, slumped over in one of the chairs, his head dropped into his hands. He was the perfect picture of anguish and heartache that my heart immediately went out to him.

He was so broken, so shattered physically and psychologically that for a moment I didn't recognise him—I _couldn't_ recognise him. Until he looked up, and the sheer look of despair and desolation in his eyes almost brought me to my knees.

"_Edward_!" I exclaimed in so much fear for him that my voice could barely rise above a whisper. "Kel"—I turned to her, in near desperation—"_do something—_tell him I'm okay!_"_

"I can't, Bells. He can already feel it," she said to me, apologetically, as her hand came to rest on my shoulder.

"What—what is he feeling!?"

"It's not _what_ he's feeling, Bells," she explained, her smile once more turning sad, "it's what he _isn't_."

"Me . . . ?" I tore my eyes away from him, from this completely fractured form of Edward, back to Kel.

She kind of shrugged, an outward validation of something that words couldn't convey; her smile again expressing her apology for it.

But she didn't have to explain it to me, because I could already feel what he was feeling; that empty, aching hole in the centre of my being that had been gradually encompassing me. A dark, cold void that was threatening to break me apart. It was a shadow of what I'd felt the six years without him, only now it was so concentrated and condensed that it was beginning to take over my every conscious thought. Every part of my existence.

"_This_ is why you can't leave him, and you have no more control over it than Edward does right now." Kel's voice broke into my thoughts, distracting me for a moment.

"What do you mean I have no control? Kel—tell me!" I exclaimed, beginning to feel like I was being swallowed up by this darkness that was converging on me. The same darkness that was devouring Edward.

"Go closer to him," Kel urged me, her smile placating my panic.

I did, and _as_ I did a warmth began to envelop me. The same warmth I had felt in the field of wild flowers. A warmth that slowly filled the void that was opening in the centre of my chest with a light of love and a thousand emotions that I could barely conceive.

I moved closer to him, so close I was almost merging with him, as the warmth consumed me. Again, it was a living breathing energy that filled my very soul with an incredible sense of oneness, that I felt myself reach for him; reach within him.

He felt it as well. The moment I connected with him, he broke from that shock of pain and glanced up, his expression smoothing out in complete surprise; a smile almost breaking across his face.

"Bella . . . ?" he whispered in a tone so hoarse and fragmented that it immediately broke the connection between us.

I staggered backwards, feeling Kel's hands immediately steady me, recoiling from the very idea of it; that I was so disconnected from him physically. That's when I saw it—that's when I saw them. They started off as large, bright orbs surrounding him, until their shape slowly formed into two incredibly tall beings of that same living, breathing light . . . with feathered wings that were wrapped around him.

"Oh. . ." I gasped, completely stunned, as tears spilled silently down my face.

"You're lucky, Bells. They don't let everyone see them," Kel said, turning to me, her smile warm and tender, before it almost immediately fell.

I felt the _others_ then, instinctively, and as I turned to glance towards them, Kel grabbed my shoulders firmly, preventing me. "Don't look, Bells."

"Why are they here?" I whispered, my panic and fear for Edward immediately returning; that abyss once again opening up.

"He's projecting so much darkness, Bells, that it's almost like a beacon for them," she spoke, her voice dropping, as if to not attract their attention. "But they won't be allowed to get close to him."

I couldn't stand it; to be so close to Edward, but so far away. So removed from him, and seeing right before my eyes how much it was torturing him, while there was nothing in this world I could do for him.

"Kel . . ." I pleaded, my voice breaking. "Take me away from here—please."

I couldn't watch Edward go through this when I couldn't help him—not for another second.

Without a word she turned me around, and as she led me back down the corridor, away from Edward, I glanced over my shoulder. The angels were still around him, as were the creatures in the shadows, that were still attempting to creep up on him, but this time Rosalie was with him; her arm wrapped securely around his shoulder. And before the image of them faded before my eyes, Edward looked up—his gaze almost appearing to lock with mine—and he smiled.

"It's good Rosalie's with him. They share a real bond!" Kel explained, quickly continuing after I turned to her, confused, and more than a little uneasy. "We have families, Bells. We're created in . . . tribes, clans—bloody hell, there isn't enough human words that I can use to explain it. But anyway, Edward and Rosalie are from the same family. So are me and you." She flashed me a quick smile.

We were back in the meadow again, as that distant light immediately pushed all the dark energy I'd just encountered from me; as if a cloak was lifted from me. I turned to Kel, my response an immediate smile, but I still didn't understand, and I needed to. "Is Edward from the same . . . ?"

She waved her hand, breaking me midsentence. "Come sit down."

She led me to a row of wooden benches beneath a humungous cherry tree that was in full bloom; all that appeared to be made up of the same animated substance as everything in this world, and the scent in the air was beyond imagining.

Kel was right; there were no human words to accurately describe it.

"Bells . . ." Kel began after we both sat down, appearing to pause for a moment in thought, "Edward's what you'd call your soulmate, but it's so much more than that. The two of you are two sides of the _very same_ soul."

I only gazed at her for a moment, shaking my head. Unable to comprehend it.

"Okay, I'll try and explain it. When a soul is created, it splits in half. Into two energies—male and female, I guess you could say. It can't exist as one, but two—do you get me?" she paused to gauge me. When I nodded—as uncertain as I still was—she continued, her voice lowering, almost gravely, "Bells . . . soulmates aren't supposed to come back together."

"They're . . . not . . . ?" I asked, shaking my head, unsure I could fully grasp what she was trying to explain to me.

She shook her head in answer to me. "There's a reason one is on earth and the other is on this side. It's too intense for us when we're both human at the same time. We cannot physically comprehend something so pure, so . . . _infinite_, and it will usually drive us crazy. We cannot be apart once we've found each other and when we're together we'll become so consumed by each other that life can get pretty . . . disastrous."

For a moment I was stunned, before I all but laughed, dryly—ironically. "You just described me and Edward."

She nodded, conceding. "You were kids—you weren't even close to being emotionally mature enough to be able to _begin _to understand the depth of what you felt for each other, but you both still felt it. Edward knew one thing; there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. He didn't know why he felt this way, but it was all he could think, and sleep and breathe. He would kill for you Bella, and you know he very nearly has."

I nodded, my heart feeling like it was suddenly sinking to the very bottom of my soul. "Are you telling me we can't be together?"

She laughed, as if it was her who found it ironic this time. "There's no way you can physically be apart now. Did you ever wonder why you couldn't get over Edward when you _were_ apart?"

"Every day," I muttered, frowning as my thoughts momentarily returned to those dark years without him.

"You'd found one another, and after that there's only two options: living your entire lives together on earth, or both of you being pulled back together early. Because if you get separated, well . . . you don't need me to tell you that you never really live, and your life becomes . . . meaningless."

"Is that's what's happening now—we're being pulled back?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.

Kel shook her head. "No, you're doing pretty well together. The time you were apart actually turned out to be a positive. You grew without each other that a . . . balance was created between the connection you have and . . . living your lives." She suddenly huffed shortly in what sounded like frustration. "Damn it—I can't explain it the way _I_ understand it because then _you _wouldn't understand it, but . . . _do you_ understand?"

I nodded again, feeling my brow knot nevertheless. "But if we weren't supposed to come back together, then why did we?"

Kel smirked, all but rolling her eyes. "Because Mr Hothead broke the rules and wouldn't let you go back without him."

I broke into an immediate grin. "He's still the same over here?"

"Yes—well, he's very intense, so it comes across as him being a bad tempered shit head on earth sometimes."

I laughed impulsively. "But he isn't like that anymore!"

"Yes, that's because he was able to refocus his energy, and he grew up too. You're lucky, Bells, they were going to drag both your asses back after you'd first met."

"Who's they . . .?" I asked, slowly.

"The angels who were with Edward at the hospital," she explained simply.

"Why did they decide not to?" I asked, realising I was holding my breath, and unsure why.

"Because it would have been more detrimental to your families—even if Edward _did _kill him."

I hesitated, immediately confused again. "Kill _who_?"

She took an inevitable breath, before explaining, "The night Edward crashed his car, after he left the party he ran into Mike Newton, and . . . he got his hands around Mike's neck"—I gasped, understanding the implications of that immediately—"I told you, Bells, he would willingly kill for you."

I only shook my head, lost for words,

"They were both drunk, so neither of them remember it, but it took a few guys to pull Edward off him," Kel added, clearly gauging my reaction.

I could only continue to shake my head again, dumbfounded, and in disbelief. "Edward was going to kill Mike all because he thought I'd kissed him?"

"No . . . Alice had set him straight, Bells, and he found out that Mike had attacked you."

"Oh, God," I muttered, dropping my forehead to my palm, massaging my skin. "It sounds _exactly_ like Edward."

"Do you see?" Kel asked in emphasis.

I only nodded, distracted for a moment, as a once familiar feeling enveloped me: as if my life with Edward would always be out of control.

"Did you see all this happen, Kel? I thought . . . I thought you were still alive then. . ." I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.

She broke into a tender, knowing kind of smile. "Bells, I died on impact. My body was just a shell after—and remember how you got yourself so twisted afterwards, thinking you had to make it back to say goodbye?"

I nodded, as a wave of emotion crashed over me by the mere memory of it.

"I'd already gone," she admitted, gently.

I almost laughed, scoffing, by the sheer irony of it, as I inhaled back my tears. "I don't think it would have made it any easier."

Slinging her arm around my shoulder, she nudged me affectionately. "I was finished, Bells. It was just time for me to return, that's all. But you're not even close to being done yet."

"Why am I here, then—I mean, why have I died now?" I asked, confusion falling over me once more.

"You're not healed yet," Kel explained, delicately. "To have babies come through you, you have to be physically and spiritually healthy, Bells, and you're not."

"But . . . I _am_ now. . ." I insisted.

She shook her head, her entire expression softening this time.

"You're not, Bells. The time without Edward done some real damage to you—so much that _physically_ it was enough to kill you. You really have to forgive Alice and Esme, and you have to help Edward forgive them too," she impressed on me the obvious importance of it.

I opened my mouth, but when I had no words, I closed it, shaking my head softly.

Kel continued, explaining subtly, "Esme—but especially Alice—sensed what you and Edward are, Bells. They couldn't explain it or rationalise it, just that the two of you were close to self-destructing and you needed a break—and they were right. You really did. You both needed to get some kind of control over it, and find that balance, before you could continue, but of course they had no idea what the consequences of that would have been. But Bella, I have no doubt that if you didn't separate when you did, you both would have been brought back, and that would have almost killed Alice and Esme. Not to mention _your_ family, as well!" She was serious, watching me closely, making sure I understood, but I barely could.

I knew Edward and I were connected in a way I could never have imagined—I'd always known that—but why Alice could have knowingly hurt me by taking Edward out of my life for so long. . . I couldn't reconcile it.

"It was _six years_, Kel," I stressed, feeling myself tensing at the thought of it. "It almost killed _me_."

"I know," she murmured, in empathy this time, "but you have to let it go now, Bells."

Breaking Kel's gaze, I dropped mine to the ground, becoming lost in thought as I watched the living blades of grass caress against my ankles. "What would happened to Edward if I decided to stay?" I asked quietly, my eyes remaining averted.

"He'd self-destruct, Bells, and he probably wouldn't be far behind you. They would probably bring him back before he could do something stupid—like kill himself, and they wouldn't allow that," she explained, her expression becoming troubled.

"What would happen if he killed himself?" I asked, almost afraid to do so and not sure I really wanted to know—especially when Kel visibly cringed from it.

"I can't explain it in a way you'll understand, Bells," she said softly, her brow knotting deeply, severing her gaze for a moment.

"They wouldn't let him, though?" I demanded, feeling the panic immediately rise out of me again.

"No, they'd get to him first, before . . ." she let it go, immediately dragging her hand back through her hair, before sighing stiffly, as if she was frustrated again. "It's not like he'd just let the darkness in, Bella. He physically _would not_ be able to exist without you. His soul would crave you to the point that his actions would be outside his control."

I only gazed at her for a moment, trying to understand, but it was so much to take in that I could barely grasp the surface of what she was trying to tell me. "But . . . if Edward has no control why didn't he come looking for me after . . . ?"

"He's not _out of control, _but if he lost you under these circumstances. . . Okay, tell me this: why didn't you go looking for _him_?" she asked, raising her brows in obvious emphasis.

"Because I thought he didn't want me," I confessed, softly.

"It was the same reason for him. The two of you are still human after all of this, Bells. There's pride and, well you're stubborn as an ox," she broke into a knowing grin before continuing, "but even when he thought you'd left him, he still loved you enough to respect your wishes and stay away."

I only nodded, becoming distracted again, because I could still hear him in the depth of my soul; I could still feel him. Feel him as he called my name over and over, repeatedly, and it was tearing my heart out.

Suddenly restless, I stood up abruptly from the bench, clamping my palm around my forehead. "I can't stand this."

"I know," she repeated in understanding, rising to her feet beside me and wrapping her arm around me shoulder. "This is the reason why he should be _here_."

I thought about it for a moment, before asking, "Would I still know him if he was?"

She grinned again. "Of course you would, Bells. You've known him for a _long _time, but he would have helped you disconnect from your life if you decided to stay, or he would have helped you go back. But with him living at the same time, all you know, all you can feel, is that disconnection from him here. I mean, you haven't even asked about them. . ." She raised a brow, again in emphasis, but this time I had no idea why.

"Ask about . . . who . . . ?" I asked, puzzled.

"Your children."

"But . . . I don't have any children," I replied, my voice immediately wavering.

"Of course you do. It might have only been for a short time, Bells, but you were still their mother," she insisted, resolutely.

"Are they here . . . ?" I asked, covering my mouth in disbelief as my eyes welled slowly with tears.

"They're here," Kel replied, her smile turning warm. "You can meet them if you like."

"I _can_?" My voice almost failed me.

"Come on," she said gently, again taking my hand.

We walked, through the field for a short distance, until we came upon a stream; its water a striking colour of blue that I had never seen before, as the light reflected in it like diamonds. On the bank of the stream was a little girl with long dark hair that hung freely around her, and I noticed, as I got closer, she was sailing a little paper boat, with a teddy bear tucked under her arm. The same teddy bear that was once mine.

As we approached she turned to meet us, before my breath immediately drew in. I knew this little girl; I had dreamt of her often. And I knew those blue green eyes. They were undoubtedly Edward's.

"Hello," she greeted me in the sweetest little sing-song voice, a bright smile lighting up across her face.

She was the most angelic little girl I had ever seen, and she couldn't have been more than five, but there was something inherently wise and all-knowing about her.

"Hi," I replied, becoming quickly engulfed by emotion, just as she came over to me and wrapped her small arms around my hips; her teddy bear pressing against my thigh. "What's your name?" I asked, my voice catching as I attempted to pull myself together.

"I don't have a name," she answered matter-of-factly, continuing to peer up at me.

"You didn't name her, Bells," Kel explained softly to me, and my heart immediately clenched.

"Oh . . . I'm so sorry, sweetie," I said gently to her, wiping her long hair back off her face where the breeze had carried it.

She grabbed my hand, bringing it to her nose for a moment. "It's okay, mummy. Ari calls me_Naiym_. It means 'sweet' in Hebrew."

"Who . . . ?" I began, before Kel quietly answered on her behalf.

"He's her . . . _Edward_. . ."

My breath hitched and just as I attempted to process it, Naiym continued, "And Aunty Kel calls me _snot."_ She giggled, before I turned to a sheepish looking Kel.

"Kel!" I protested, aghast.

"It was an accident," she mumbled, half smirking to herself and avoiding my reproachful gaze to smile affectionately at Naiym.

"Aunty Kel takes care of us," Naiym explained, taking my hand in hers and leaning against my side.

"You . . . and Ari . . . ?" I speculated.

"No . . . me and my little sister," she answered, pointing over to a nearby cluster of daisies, in every colour imaginable—and unimaginable—where a baby lay, naked on her stomach, as butterflies flittered gently around her.

I only stared at her, my breath catching for the second time in as many minutes; she was the living embodiment of Edward, the shade of her hair—that brownish, reddish, golden colour that I swore no word existed to describe it—her smile, even down to the curl that sat waywardly on top of her head.

I turned to Kel as Naiym led me toward her. "Kel—_how_ . . . ?"

I was no more than eight weeks pregnant, after all, but this baby was clearly several months old.

"Time works a little differently over here, Bells," she explained with a reassuring smile.

When we reached the baby, Niaym immediately kneeled down beside her and whispered something in her ear. The baby giggled openly in delight, and it was honestly the sweetest sound I'd ever heard. So sweet, I was beginning to feel like my heart was breaking, as tears once again burned behind my eyes.

"This is Greer," Naiym introduced, as the baby only stared up at me in wide-eyed curiosity. Her eyes were the same shade as Naiym's, as Edward's; only they had more depth; in fact, it was almost as if they had more volume.

"_Greer._ . ." I repeated softly, before Naiym further explained.

"It's what Daddy named her. It's our Great Grandmother's name."

My hand almost instinctively rose to cover my heart, before over my mouth as tears silently slipped down my cheeks. I had not named this beautiful child, Edward had. . .

"She's beautiful," I whispered, hastily wiping my face dry, before dropping down to my knees beside her, and placing my palm delicately over her back. Her skin was as soft as silk, smooth and warm.

She cooed, making soft little gurgling sounds before resting her entire face in my lap.

"She wants you to pick her up," Naiym spoke up, wrapping her little arms around my neck from behind me.

Reaching up, I placed my hand over hers for a moment before again shifting my focus to Greer. I hesitated, glancing up at Kel for . . . permission, almost.

Kel smiled warmly, nodding her head slightly. "She's your baby, Bells."

Tentatively, I gripped Greer gently beneath her arms, bringing her to me and cradling her against my chest. She only continued to stare at me in wonder, as if she was trying to work me out, before the biggest grin spread across her face.

I smiled back at her, swallowing past the forming lump in the back of my throat, but my heart was absolutely breaking apart, tearing me straight down the middle, because in going back to Edward, I had to leave them behind.

"I'll take good care of them, Bells," Kel promised me, as if immediately understanding.

"And soon we're coming back," Naiym added, her little arms around me squeezing. "Me and Greer _together_."

I dropped my face on to the top of Greer's head, inhaling her sweet scent in, as my tears once more overflowed, dampening her soft curls. "How long, Kel?" I asked her, my voice all but breaking.

Smiling sadly Kel sat beside me amongst the daises, just as Naiym propped herself on her lap, reaching over to run her fingertips down my face, wiping my tears away. "Don't cry, mummy," she spoke softly, her eyes wise beyond her apparent age. "You have to go back, because Daddy's sad without you."

Grabbing her hand in mine, I brought it to my lips, closing my eyes for a moment, as the tears continued to slip beneath my lashes. The pain was unbearable; I had never expected to feel so much unconditional love for two little souls I had only just met.

"It won't be long, Bells," Kel promised me. "I can't give you a time, but I swear to you, it's soon."

I nodded, it wasn't enough. I wanted to take them back with me, but for now all I had was this moment.

"Will I remember them?" I asked, in a whisper, as Naiym once more wrapped her arms around me, enclosing both me and Greer in her embrace.

"You'll remember the girls, Bells, but not what I've told you about you and Edward. I told you way too much as it is," Kel explained delicately, releasing her breath, and glancing away. "Naiym, look. It's Ari."

Sucking in her breath in sudden excitement, Naiym pulled from my arms, and turned to see the boy approaching us. Then in the next moment, she was on her feet and racing toward him, her long hair flying out behind her.

I watched as he held out his arms to her, before they hugged in child-like innocence. Then bending down, Ari picked a flower, placing it behind Naiym's ear with evident tenderness. He was dark haired and olive skinned—Mediterranean perhaps—and older than her, maybe ten or eleven, but he gazed at her with an intensity well beyond his years; as if there wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for her. . .

Taking her hand in his Ari then led Naiym away from us, toward the light, and just as my heart lunged in panic, they both turned back and waved.

"Goodbye, Mummy!" Her songbird voice was carried on the breeze as it caressed my face.

"Bye," I whispered, becoming almost choked again by tears, before holding up my hand.

She smiled then, brightly, almost as if she was encouraging me, and in the next moment she was gone.

"Where'd she go?" I asked, my heart skipping, as I stared, almost in panic, into the light; transfixed for a moment.

"Ari took her back, Bells. He could sense her anxiety," she explained tactfully, and my heart instantly ached.

"I didn't name her. . ." I spoke softly, more or less to myself, my voice hushed from shame.

"Bells . . ." Kel sighed heavily, "you can't look at it like that. It just wasn't the right time."

Clearing the emotion from my throat, I glanced down at Greer. She was hanging onto me, her little chubby arms gripping my shoulders, with her head resting against my breast, and if sensing my eyes on her she again gazed up at me; staring straight down to the depths of my soul.

"Where's Greer's soulmate?" I asked after a moment, if only to distract myself.

"He's . . . not due back until after she returns," Kel explained, glancing away toward the light herself this time.

"But you said they can't be on earth at the same time," I reminded her, confused.

She turned back to me and smiled. "Sometimes our lives overlap for a little while, but it's rare to cross paths."

I paused in thought. "How come Edward and I _crossed paths_?"

"Because he's cunning," she replied without pause, all but rolling her eyes again. "He and Alice got their heads together. . ."

I hesitated for a moment. "Wait, Alice is in Edward's family too?"

She half shrugged, nodding at the same time. "Yeah, most families on earth are families over here as well. Only family isn't quite the right word. . ."

"Is Edward in _my _Family?"

"No."

"So, Edward's family is like my . . . in laws?" I asked, raising my brows.

This seemed to amuse her, and she almost laughed. "Yeah, in laws. That's pretty much it."

"Whose family are the girls in?" I pressed further.

"Snot's from yours and Greer, Edward's."

"Kel!" I protested.

She only chuckled.

I threw her a mocking scowl for a moment, before continuing, because I needed to understand this. "How does that work—if the girls are split between our families like that?"

"You, Edward and the girls are like a kind've offshoot that links both families now. It doesn't happen often, because you're not supposed to marry your soulmate on earth and have kids with them."

Of course, this only created more questions.

"Who do we usually marry then?" I asked, dropping my lips to the top of Greer's head. She appeared to be dozing.

"People from within our families," Kel answered, a smirk slowly forming across her face, as if she immediately understood what my reaction would be.

And she was right, I was . . . repulsed. "Do you mean like . . . me marrying Jake?"

She chuckled again, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief this time. "You _have_ been married to Jake."

I think my mouth fell open, before I all but recoiled from the very idea of it. "Oh—God"—her expression immediately blanched—"please tell me I won't remember this!"

She only laughed to herself, half beneath her breath. "Bells, you're only able to understand it from a human mindset, but it's not like that here. Okay, let me see if I can explain it as simply as I can. Let's say you and Jake are in a play where you're husband and wife, and this play is _extremely_ significant to your life. So you have to do the very best you can. . ." she paused to gauge me.

"Okay. . ."

"Only, you don't know that Jake is your brother until you're finished, so you're able to make it convincing, because remember, it is _very _important."

I nodded, conceding. "Okay, I see where you're going."

"It's as simple as I can explain it, only it's so much more complicated, because families—dammit. That word _doesn't_ fit," she broke off to huff, before letting it go. "But, _families_ are always evolving here."

"How did Edward handle that—me and Jake?" I asked, almost shying away from it.

She only shook her head, breaking into that highly amused grin again. "There's no _jealousy_ here, Bells. Edward is why you are able to completely disconnect from any attachments when you're on earth, but since your family _on earth _is from your family here you'll always have that bond with them. Do you understand . . . ?"

I half shrugged, but I was becoming more and more confused.

"Okay . . . "Kel began, sighing in what sounded like exasperation, "Esme was first married to Edward's father and now she's married to Carlisle. Who do you think will be her husband when she returns here?"

I only shook my head, completely lost.

"Her _soulmate_, silly!" she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Any attachment she feels toward Jack or Carlisle will dissolve the moment she reconnects back with her soulmate, and it'll be the same with Jack and Carlisle. But the closeness will remain because they're all from the same _family_—"

"Oh!" I interjected, immediately understanding. "Wow—that really does make sense."

"It's not only for _that_ reason, Bells. Any trauma you will go through on earth your soulmate—bloody hell, it's such a kooky word"—she scoffed—"but he'll heal you, get you past it, and vice-versa. What Edward would do for you, you would do for him."

"Are we always apart? I mean, when one is on earth, is the other always here?" I asked.

Kel shook her head, explaining, "No, we don't go back to Earth a lot, Bells, and we can spend hundreds of years together in between human lives. But it does make it harder when we eventually go back."

I nodded, pausing to process it, when another thought suddenly occurred to me. "Kel?' I asked, distracted by it.

She only raised her brows in question.

I curled my arms around Greer, holding her tighter to me. "Is Renee in my family?"

"Yes—well, she _was_." Her tone dropped seriously.

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes intently. "Where is she?"

Kel opened her mouth to answer, before faltering, her forehead furrowing. "Not here," she eventually replied.

"Is she in . . . hell?" I braved.

"No, not exactly," she mumbled without meeting my gaze.

"Kel," I pressed her gently. "_Tell me_."

"It's beyond human concept, Bells," she explained, sounding apologetic.

"Well, explain it to me then—bloody hell, you were able to make me understand the fact that I was once married to Jake!" I insisted.

Taking a long breath, she released it, sounding suddenly jaded. "Okay," she said quietly. "Do you remember those dark beings who were trying to get Edward's attention at the hospital?"

I only nodded.

"Well they _got_ Renee's attention, and she let them in," she explained in a hushed voice, as if not wanting Greer to hear.

"Oh. . ." was all I could say in reply.

"Bells, when you make a deal with the Devil, he will eventually come to collect." She shrugged, almost hopelessly.

I nodded again. Of course, I didn't wholly understand but it was enough, and I knew it was better that I didn't question further. That I didn't know more.

"Ma-ma," Greer suddenly babbled, surprising me so much I gazed down at her. She was smiling up at me, but at the same time her big soulful eyes were filling with tears.

"Oh, baby. . ." I cradled her to me, dropping my nose and lips against her hair.

"Bells. . ." Kel suddenly spoke up, the gravity behind her tone immediately grabbing my attention.

When I met her gaze her eyes motioned behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see an angel standing behind me, causing my breath to immediately hitch. It was at least eight feet tall, its wings semi-outstretched, and so completely radiated in the vivid warmth and living light that I could barely make out his face.

"It's time to go," Kel admitted, reluctantly, drawing my focus back to her.

My heart paused and I nodded, getting clumsily to my feet, with Greer still in my arms, clinging to me tighter.

"Don't say goodbye," she teased me tenderly, her voice softly wavering, before tentatively taking Greer from my arms.

The baby started to cry, and it was so heartbreaking that tears began flowing down my cheeks before I became aware of them.

"He'll heal you on earth as well, Bells," she whispered, referring to Edward, before breaking into a tender smile.

I only nodded, hastily as I tried to pull myself together; I already knew, after all.

The angel drew closer; I felt him more than I saw him approach, and the incredible warmth he emanated was instantly soothing.

"Goodbye, baby," I said to Greer my tone instinctively turning tender, before placing my palm gently against her cheek. "See you soon."

She smiled the sweetest smile in return, reaching up to grip one of my fingers for a moment, before immediately turning to Kel and burying her face against her hair.

"I'll take good care of them," Kel promised me once more, before reaching out to pull me against her, kissing my cheek quickly.

I only nodded again, too choked to speak this time. "I love you," I eventually mouthed—to both of them.

Kel nodded this time, her eyes subtly welling with tears, just as Greer turned back to me. "Ma-ma," she spoke again, the wide-eyed wonder returning to her face as they both wavered before my eyes by an immense, golden light.

The angel had enclosed me in his wings.

Before I could register the next moment I was being flown through time and space, in the same unfathomable speed as I had at the very beginning. Then as the darkness of space passed, I realized I was going through a tunnel; a tunnel where the walls were screens, replaying every event of my life.

I saw myself being born and growing up in Australia, from infancy to just before I left, with Kel, Nummi and Rach. I saw Charlie, and Uncle Billy and Jake. Every person I had ever met and every encounter I'd ever experienced. And I saw Renee—every horrible thing she'd ever done to me, was projected back to me, but I didn't recoil from it. In the embrace of the angel there was no fear, no anger or remorse, and no judgements. I was merely a witness to my own life.

I saw Edward then—the first time I'd ever laid eyes on him—and it immediately became obvious: how significant he was in my life. Even the image of him was sharper, clearer—more vivid than any other. I saw him during the first miscarriage I'd suffered, drunk and completely disconnected, until I was seeing him when we were apart, but it became more than that. I also felt him, every emotion he'd ever felt. All the heartache and pain. Or perhaps, it was because I'd experienced that same pain myself that I instinctively knew, understood.

Finally I reached the present time; of Angela cradling a baby girl in her arms. "Lilly," I heard her speak her name, before once more I was seeing Edward. Edward in that same hospital room Kel had taken me to, but this time he was smiling; his relief so palpable that I literally felt it flood through me.

And then I was in darkness and pain. My limbs, my entire body, felt heavy and sluggish. I was struggling to breathe, to open my eyes, and the pain was so intense it was suddenly all I could reckon.

I tried to speak—I tried to call his name, but I couldn't. I couldn't pull enough air into my lungs. They burned and every cell within my body ached.

But he was with me; I could sense him—I could feel him. He was talking to me, but I couldn't quite decipher his words, just the tone of it, and the resonance of his voice.

I felt myself calm, almost automatically, before clumsily and blindly reaching out to him. He took my hand, his lips coming to rest against my forehead, his breath washing against my face.

With one final effort, I slowly opened my eyes. For a moment they struggled to come into focus, until I found myself gazing into his.

And in that single moment, I knew. I remembered.

And then it was gone.

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**A/N: Still not sure about this. Nope, nope, nope. Ugh.**  
**Feel free to tell me your thoughts. Good or bad; it's cool.**  
**MWAH thanks for reading xoxo**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Damn, these last few chapters have been stubborn, putting me in the freezer, but I made this one talk to me. I needed to get back from the supernatural theme of the last chapter, without pretending it didn't happen. Anywho . . . it is what it is.  
Have a happy Easter, peeps (if you celebrate), and I'll hopefully see you again soon. The next chapter will be from Edward.**

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**Because of You**

**Chapter 20**

**Bella's POV**

Hospitals are noisy places; they never sleep, but that alone wouldn't have bothered me if my mind wasn't so overrun.

On my third day I started to recall the strange dream I'd had while I was in surgery, and now a week later, I was literally inundated by a confusion of images. Images and faces that I felt I should have understood, I should have recognised, but I didn't. I remembered Edward being in it—and Kel. At least, a version of Kel I had never known; Kel trying to tell me things, but it was as if she'd been speaking a foreign language.

It seemed that Kel had been the basis of the dream, while Edward only appeared in the periphery of it; as if at times I had seen him through an image of an image. I recalled projections of him at the hospital surrounded by various doctors and nurses, but also with Rose and Jasper. But then there were images of him I had absolutely no conscious memory or recollection of—images of times and events I couldn't possibly have had a memory of. At times he'd looked very young, as if I'd been reminiscing of the past, but they were from situations I had never been a part of. While I could have sworn some of the scenes I saw him in were in the context from the time we were apart.

But how could that be?

In all possibility it could have been a hallucination brought about by the cocktail of drugs I was no doubt injected with on arrival. Or the nerve endings in my brain bursting from lack of oxygen, causing me to have a dreamlike experience—I'd googled that one, under "near death experiences".

Whatever it was, I needed some calm and quiet to address it—to understand why it was disturbing me so much, while impressing on me a sense of significance that I couldn't even begin to comprehend—and I missed my home, my dog, but most of all, I missed that promised solitude with Edward.

Edward. . . He'd been with me every waking moment—that the nurses allowed—but we'd barely spoken. The moment I started recalling the dream, I couldn't stop thinking about it; it monopolised my every waking thought, only to follow me into my actual dreams.

I mean, I've had reoccurring dreams before, but this was different. It was some kind of inception. A dream of a dream.

The more I tried to make sense of it the more bewildering it became. It was almost like trying to make sense of someone else's memories, someone else's dreams. But they weren't memories, and I wasn't sure it was even a dream. In any sense, all it did was unsettle me and upset Edward. But it was almost unavoidable with him, because every time I looked at him, it seemed to evoke more images, more faces.

Two in particular; two little girls. . .

I had to get it out of my head, and needless to say, I had to get out of hospital. I'd been there a week, and a week is long enough for anyone. But apparently my Haemoglobin levels were still low and I was constantly faint and breathless.

"We'll see how you are in another couple of days," the doctor concluded—regarding the possibility of my discharge—flashing me a reassuring smile, only for it to immediately fade from my reaction.

"I'm leaving!" I asserted, in no uncertain terms, making the doctor pause, before I turned to Edward to back me up.

He appeared to be fighting the urge to laugh, his grin broadening when he caught my gaze.

I only threw him an arched, dubious eyebrow, and of course, this seemed to amuse him more. Because him finding my anger "cute" was naturally endearing. But then he'd smiled at me a lot these last eight days—the least of it with amusement. . .

I only half rolled my eyes, unsure if I was going to smile back or scowl at him, before turning back to the doctor.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Of course, we can't hold you here against your will. . ."

I took it as confirmation, and thirty minutes later, with a follow-up appointment booked for my doctor in Port Angeles, and a list of dietary recommendations to up my iron intake, we left.

I was still so weak, and as much as it frustrated me, I was glad in a way that it kept my thoughts diverted. And I loved the fact that I was alone with Edward again. He kept me distracted from all of it; the loss of another baby, the fact that I needed exploratory surgery to find out if I could even have a successful pregnancy; and the blur of images and faces that was constantly on the fringes of my mind.

That first night out of hospital, I slept cocooned in Edward's arms. Of course he was still as innately warm as he always was, and come morning I woke in a sweltering mess. But that could have been the fact that I'd dreamed about the _dream_ again, and this time with more clarity than I ever had before.

I'd definitely been with Kel, and those same two little girls—with eyes so much like Edward's—whom Kel informed me were, in fact, the babies I'd conceived with Edward and had then lost. Only this time when I woke up, I knew inherently that it couldn't possibly have been just a dream, because I could still smell the baby I'd been holding. I could still feel the warmth of her in my arms.

In almost shock I pulled from his arms, drawing my breath in sharply as a grinding ache tore through my chest. But I merely clutched it, as I tried in vain to slow my racing mind and collect my thoughts.

"What is it, baby—you okay?' Edward asked me, his voice husky from sleep, as he sat up in bed to wrap his arms around me again.

Could they have really been our babies?

"Bella, talk to me," Edward prompted me, his breath gushing from his nose, before he rested his lips against my bare shoulder.

"Edward . . . who's _Greer_ . . . ?" I asked, my fingers digging further into my flesh as if the very mention of that name caused my heart to clench.

There was a pause, and when I half turned to him, he met my eyes, his forehead etched in obvious confusion.

"Erm . . . my grandmother's name was Greer," he answered after a moment.

Releasing my breath, I glanced down, pausing for a moment.

"Did . . . did you think about naming the baby Greer?" I pressed him, only to see the look of confusion on his face become a frown.

For a moment he only continued to gaze at me, before he broke it to rub the back of his head, distracted. "I did think about it, I guess. Bella. . ." He met my eyes again, and this time he looked like he was suddenly pleading with me, his head shaking softly back and forth.

And I wasn't sure what he was expressing. He'd obviously remained confused, but at the same time, he appeared to be pained.

"I'm sorry, honey—I just . . . I just, don't know. . ." I began in frustration before discarding it, and dropping my forehead into my palm with a heavy sigh. I didn't want to confuse him, or upset him, but I was so consumed by these images that I literally _had_ to get them out of my head.

"Bella, look at me," he instructed, his voice slightly wavering.

When I did, turning to fully face him, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear that was obstructing my face, before tilting my chin to properly meet his eyes. "We'll have other babies—I promise you."

I only nodded. He appeared so solemn and full of conviction that I really wanted to believe him, but I wasn't sure I could. I was beginning to fear that I'd never be able to give him children, and the little girls in my dream—or whatever the hell it was—would be the only children I'd ever know.

Why else would I have remembered them, but to have something to hold onto?

**. . .**

Around midday we drove back to Forks. Edward wanted to wait another day, convinced I needed more rest, but I had to get back to my life again—and I couldn't wait another day to see Ang and her baby. I was convinced, once I was settled back into my old routine with Edward, I'd be able to put this last week behind me.

And I'd stop being so haunted by the faces of the past.

By the time we arrived home, in the early afternoon, I was exhausted and aching all over. I felt fragile again; something I absolutely detested. Edward had to practically carry me upstairs—I was so tired I was barely conscious—before he left again to pick up Buddy from Uncle Billy's.

I was woken not long after by Buddy jumping all over the bed in his excitement to greet me, before piling my face with wet, sloppy kisses.

"I missed you too, you big goof ball," I replied, chuckling, before burying my face against his fur for a moment.

Edward collapsed on the bed beside me, before half sitting up and easing me against him.

"I spoke to your uncle," he said after a pause, before pushing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "Your father should be here tomorrow."

He didn't sound terribly enthusiastic about it—he was clearly on edge—but then I couldn't blame him. My father hadn't exactly bonded with Edward. In fact, I think his opinion of him ranged somewhere between disdain and distrust. Of course, the fact that Edward had once accused my father of being a deadbeat, didn't exactly help smooth out a path for them.

"A deadbeat piece of fucking shit", had been Edward's exact words, and I was pretty sure my father would have gladly killed him if his parents weren't sitting at the same table. In fact, Charlie's exact words had been, "If that disrespectful little punk ever opens his mouth to me again, I will knock that wise ass head of his off his shoulders."

I still found it hard to believe, sometimes. Even eight years later. That Edward had once been so consumed by anger he was literally afraid of nothing—the least of all being the consequences of it.

Curling my arm tighter around Edward's torso, I buried my face further against his chest and groaned.

Him and my father . . . but I couldn't put it off forever. . .

He took a deliberate breath, exhaling it into a hum, before I felt him press his lips to the side of my head. "It'll be okay, baby. I just have to convince him that I'm not the little prick I used to be."

His tone was light and teasing, but he was fooling no one. He was as tense as a bowstring.

**. . . **

Charlie arrived just before nine the next morning. Uncle Billy had given us a head's up, so we were at least dressed and expecting him. I had a sinking suspicion it was my father's intention, to catch us unexpectedly—Edward at least.

Edward answered the door, while I sat on the lounge with bated breath.

"Colonel," Edward addressed him, more respectfully than I had ever heard him speak.

"Edward," Charlie replied, stiffly at best, before taking Edward's outstretched hand. "You got taller."

I broke into an immediate smile, catching Edward's gaze, as he led Charlie into the living room, and feeling it grow broad.

I knew it.

Edward only flashed me a small, conceding grin, before Charlie was in front of me, taking me delicately into his arms.

"How are you, Bella?" he asked after a moment, sounding afflicted, his voice turning thick—and he rarely, if ever, called me "Bella".

"I'm fine, Dad," I reassured him, beginning to feel suddenly overcome myself.

My father wasn't one to openly show his emotions, so when he did, it immediately rebounded through me.

"I brought you something," he said gruffly, fumbling in his pocket to pull out a small gift box.

"Dad. . ." I whispered, affection seeping into my tone, before tentatively pulling the ribbon off the box and opening it. Inside was a small silver framed photo of me and him. I looked no older than six, and as I stood beside him, my hand clutching his, a bright smile was lit up on my entire face. It was proof, proof positive, that I did, in fact, experience happiness when I was a kid. Still, it wasn't the only reason why my breath immediately drew in, in surprise.

I'd been dreaming of a face, almost eerily similar, every night.

"Oh, thanks, Dad—I've never seen this photo before," I admitted, my voice wavering and coming close to breaking.

Placing his palm to the far side of my face, he pulled me closer to him to plant his lips to my cheek.

"Are you resting?" And just like that it was back to business as usual. The stiff upper lip, real-men-don't-show-emotions, type of thing. That was Charlie, but Edward more than made up for it. He always had. . .

"Yes—too much, probably," I said with a small sigh, beyond frustrated by it, at this point.

Charlie only surveyed me for a moment, a small smile pushing up the corners of his mouth, before he turned to Edward. "Edward," his tone lowered again, hedging with obvious disapproval, "fancy a walk outside?"

This seemed to surprise Edward, and for a moment he hesitated, his eyes catching mine, before locking them back to Charlie's. "Uh . . . yeah, sure."

So under the guise of taking Buddy out back to toss a tennis ball around with him, Charlie and Edward left the house, while I remained on the sofa, my heart all but bursting from my chest in growing trepidation.

There was absolutely no way I could distract myself, so pulling myself precariously to my feet, I walked into the kitchen to make coffee. Of course, the fact that the kitchen window offered an unobstructed view of the two of them, had nothing to do with it.

They were talking; it appeared casual enough, as they took turns in throwing the ball for Buddy to fetch. There was absolutely nothing threatening about my father's body language, or anything defensive about Edward's.

They stayed outside for close to an hour, but thankfully, Ang called halfway through, saving me from the agony of anticipation.

"B, sweetie—oh gosh I've been sick with worry about you," she burst the moment I answered, her voice immediately catching.

"Hey, Ang—I'm fine," I attempted to assure her, but the tone of her voice had immediately affected me. I'd missed her so much, after all.

"Oh, babe. You don't have to be so brave all the time. . ." she sounded close to tears, bringing me right to the edge with her.

"Ang, stop it!" I demanded, good-naturedly, inhaling back the threat of tears. "Besides, I want to hear all about Lilly—tell me about her."

"Oh, B, I can't wait for you to meet her." The energy behind her voice instantly shifted; it softened, but was seeped in so much happiness, that I couldn't help but be moved by it. "I just love her so much."

"I can't wait, either. We were going to come today, but Charlie just arrived," I explained, regrettably. "Hopefully we can still stop by this afternoon. I'll let you know—but send me some more photos."

There was a pause.

"Are you sure you'll be okay about it?" she eventually breached with an obvious amount of delicacy that it immediately upset me.

"Ang, I don't want anyone walking on egg shells around me!" I insisted, dropping my forehead to my palm at the sound of anguish in my own voice.

"I'm sorry, B," she amended, remorsefully, "but can you still . . . ?" she left it unspoken—the unspoken question of my womanhood. Whether or not I could still have babies.

"They were able to save the tube, and I have to go back in a few months to see if it can be fully unblocked. The Dr seems to think there's a good chance it can be," I mumbled, hating this topic almost as much as I did the word "fragile".

"Oh, good!" I knew she was genuinely happy for me, I just couldn't stand to talk about it, to give it more energy—to validate it.

When Charlie and Edward eventually re-emerged from outside, I got the impression there was now a mutual understanding between them. Charlie would had to have noticed the changes in Edward. He wasn't that eighteen year old boy he once was, and he hadn't been for a long time. I wasn't sure if my father would ever fully warm up to him, but at this point, I would take any truce between them with a smile on my face.

As it was, the more time my father and Edward spent together, the more their unlikely friendship turned into a mutual respect. I suspected Charlie began to see the person I had always insisted Edward was—the person I had once thought I'd completely invented to compensate for what lacked in our young relationship. The person Edward was today; a mature, well-balanced, almost, twenty-six year old man with his life spread out before him.

The only thing that was still uncertain about his future was whether he'd ever be a father.

Or, more accurately, whether I could give him children.

**. . .**

Two days later Edward finally relented and took me to see Angela and Ben's baby. He'd obviously shared Ang's concerns—that seeing the baby would be a painful reminder for me—and when he refused to listen to reason, I grabbed my car keys, stubbornly determined to go with or without him.

Naturally, I'd taken no more than half a dozen steps toward the garage, when I was overcome by a bout of dizziness.

I faltered, coming close to stumbling, when Edward immediately scooped me up from behind and turned me back toward the house.

"Jesus, Bella!" he snapped, huffing, his frustration almost appearing to supersede his concern for me.

"Every second person in this damn town has a baby, Edward! What are you going to do—lock me in the house for good?" I demanded, begrudgingly clinging to him as my equilibrium continued to be compromised.

"If you actually talked to me, I might think you were dealing with it, but most of the time you're head's in the clouds," he exclaimed, after propping me down on the sofa, the frustration in his voice increasing and again giving way to concern.

"How is talking about it going to help? I lost a baby—before it even _was _a baby. What else do you want me to say, Edward?" I pleaded with him, becoming frustrated myself, and more so when I became more and more out of breath.

"I just want you to talk to me, because I know you—you'll bury it. You'll bury it until you fucking snap!"

"I'm not burying it, Edward!" I insisted, my voice rising defensively. "I already cried over it—I'm _fine_!" But even as I asserted it, my voice caught, almost breaking and immediately contradicting me.

Releasing his breath, sounding suddenly weary, Edward sat beside me, dropping his head in his palm for a moment. "Bella . . . I feel like you're drifting away from me," he confessed, his voice turning soft in his seriousness, as his eyes locked to mine. "Most of the time you just stare off into space, and you won't let me in."

And he looked so vulnerable all of a sudden, his voice so beseeching, that my heart ached for him. "I'm not shutting you out, Edward," I promised him, placing my palm to his cheek. "It's just, I . . ." And shaking my head, I left it unspoken.

"Tell me, baby," he pleaded with me, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

I only gazed at him for a moment, at the way he stared down into my eyes, intently; the way his eyebrows drew together, flanking the vein that ran down the middle of his forehead. The same vein that only became prominent when he was stressed. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about any of it," I eventually admitted, my voice dropping to a whisper, but it wasn't the loss of the baby I was referring to, or even the question of my fertility.

Letting go of his breath, he reached out, curving his palm around the nape of my neck, pulling me toward him. "So long as you _feel_ something, honey, because sometimes you remind me so much of . . ." And as if suddenly catching himself, he straightened up, abandoning it.

"Remind you of what . . . ?" I prompted him, feeling my brow knot in confusion.

"You remind me of that girl I first met half way through junior year in high school," he answered, sounding almost reluctant; though, I wasn't sure why.

"I'm not that girl anymore, but at the same time, I'll always be her—the same way you'll always be that bad tempered boy," I explained, breaking into an immediate smile at Edward's reaction.

"Jesus . . . I was such a dick," he murmured, half laughing to himself, before planting his lips to my brow, and relenting. "Okay, you pain in the ass, I'll take you to see Angela."

**. . .**

Lilly was beautiful! Chubby and pink, with little red rosebud lips, and a full head of dark hair. She was the perfect mix of Ang and Ben, and she fit perfectly in my arms.

As you can imagine, I fell spectacularly to pieces, but I couldn't help it. I was so happy for Angela, as well as being incredibly overcome by this little miracle, and she smelled so sweet, and so, _so familiar_.

I only held her close to me, running the tip of my nose across her silken soft skin, inhaling her in, and becoming almost literally choked by a barrage of images. Images I was still on the cusp of understanding. Images that weren't quite discernible, in spite of being so increasingly familiar.

Then that pain—that pain Angela and Edward both feared—began to converge on me. A longing that was so intense it ached, and a torment, a taunt, that I might never experience what it'd be like to hold my own baby in my arms. That my babies were torn away from me without any promise of redemption.

And through me Edward would know the same pain.

"I-I-I just need some air," I stammered hastily to Ang, carefully placing baby Lilly back in her arms before turning to escape.

Edward caught me, or I collided with him, I wasn't sure, but I didn't make it outside before I was engulfed against him.

I apologised to him over and over, repeatedly, feeling like I'd let him down—I'd disappointed him—and I cried for our baby, wishing so desperately that I hadn't lost her that my heart felt like it was literally crumbling in pain.

In reality it was more than likely the effects of my broken ribs, and battered body, as Edward crushed me to him, but it felt fitting. A physical pain to express so much heartache.

I felt so empty, so broken, and even less whole than I had when Edward and I were apart. That my very identity, what it meant to be a woman, was called into question.

And I clung to him; I clung to him for that sense of validation he'd always been able to give me, because when I was at my darkest he was always that beacon of light. That if I was so significant to him, there had to be a purpose to all of it—to all of this pain and anguish.

To us.

Edward had been right. I needed to grieve for the baby I'd lost before I opened myself to something so close. Lilly was the brutal reality of what I'd lost, but I hadn't been able to properly grieve because I'd become so consumed by the experience I'd had. Of my babies that weren't gone, but who had appeared even more real than Lilly herself.

It was ridiculous, and easily explainable. According to "Scientific American" it was all the result of neurotransmitters reacting to lack of oxygen in a dying brain. Edward had said it himself; my heart had stopped, and I had no pulse.

I had died, and my unborn babies were not alive in some mystical afterlife with Kel. They were dead and gone, and I had to get them out of my mind! I had to get them out of my head!

"Take me home, Edward," I sobbed, before my chest erupted into shudders so pitifully I only pushed my face further against his chest. I not only felt fractured, but open and exposed, and we still stood in the middle of Ben and Angela's living room.

Without a word, and continuing to cradle me against him, he turned to leave, before Angela was before me; her face so anguished, I all but shrank away from her. "I'm sorry, Ang," I whispered, as shame filtered through me. "It's not because of Lilly. She's beautiful."

She nodded quickly, her expression breaking that little bit more, before she cupped her hand to my cheek. "Of course it isn't," she replied, her voice openly afflicted. "It's okay, B. Take some more time and come and see her again when you're ready."

**. . .**

Edward and I talked for hours that night. We reminisced about high school and the two years we were together, but mostly we talked about the years we were apart. Edward admitted to me how low he'd gone—how unrecognisable he'd become—and how he'd often thought of ending it. I told him the story of when Ang set me up with Riley, and how drunk I'd got. So drunk Uncle Billy had to throw me in the shower, clothes and all. Of course, I didn't mention everything that had happened that night, and I suspected Edward skimmed over many details as well, but we ended up in laughter several times. It was good therapy, and as unburdened as it began to make me feel, something still remained, lurking just beneath the surface. My deepest fear, and one I suspected Edward shared as well; that maybe we were never meant to be, and what had been happening was all a precursor to the inevitable. A sign.

Something, I eventually confessed to him; recoiling from it so much my voice was barely a whisper.

"If we were never meant to be, Bella, then I would have gotten over you. I would have met someone else and got on with my life—instead of living fucking miserably, every minute that we were apart," Edward replied, his voice thickening with conviction.

"I know. . ." I murmured, tightening my arm around his waist. We were lying on top of our bed, in the dim glow of a single bedside lamp, with Buddy snoring beside us.

Drawing in his breath, he released it heavily, sounding almost resigned, before pressing his lips to the top of my head. "If the worst happens and you need IVF, it's not going to mean we'll never have babies. A guy at my station in Seattle had two kids through IVF. It works for people every day."

I nodded, conceding, allowing the warmth of hope to spread through me, and releasing my fears with a final inevitable breath; humming softly in reply.

"Whatever happens, we'll do it together, baby, because I'm not going to live without you—ever again," Edward added, seriously—impassioned; his eyes burning further with it.

Pushing myself off his chest, I kissed his lips, tenderly but briefly. "Sap," I teased him, pressing my lips this time to his cheek, and then his neck, before nestling myself again in his arms.

Planting his lips to my brow in return, he closed his eyes for a moment, groaning softly to himself in an obvious attempt to push back his exhaustion.

"Besides," he nudged me gently, a moment later, his tone turning light, despite the croakiness that was creeping in, "you told me our babies were coming back."

I immediately paused, before my head snapped up to again meet his eyes. "I did?" I asked, my voice hitching in surprise.

"You did," he replied, an affectionate smile spreading across his face. "Though, to be honest, having daughters scares the crap out of me. I might have to buy a gun." And he chuckled softly beneath his breath, pushing it quickly through his nose.

I only smiled at him in return, feeling it grow broad as my expression mirrored his. I was feeling incredibly lighter, and optimism was once more replacing the sense of pessimism that had anchored so profoundly within me.

And I loved him, and he was reminding me once more how much my body reacted to him; even now when my energy levels were still so depleted.

Then, as if in tune with me, Edward brought me to him, kissing me, again and again, deeply and with that promise of intimacy, before he rolled me beneath him. But the moment he relaxed the weight of his body against mine, pain tore from my chest and down to my stomach, drawing my breath violently in and immediately putting a stopper on what had barely begun.

"Shit. . ." he acknowledged, immediately pulling himself off me, before expelling his breath deeply. "I'm sorry, baby—fuck. I'm sorry."

I only groaned, dragging myself to a sitting position beside him, and resting my head against his shoulder. "Well, this sucks."

Wrapping his arm around me, he pulled me to him, kissing the side of my head briefly. "It _does_ suck," he teased me, muffling it against my hair, before again pulling back. "You look pretty hammered, chickadee."

"Yeah, but I'm too wired to sleep," I replied, rubbing my eyes regardless.

"You want to watch TV?" he suggested, before breaking off as a shuddering yawn left him.

I shook my head. "I might talk to Nummi and Rach for a while. I've been avoiding them all week—did you tell them what happened?" I glanced up at him.

"I don't know how to get in contact with them, babe," he confessed.

"They're on Facebook. Are you?"

He paused, his brow creasing. "Yeah—are_ you_?"

"Of course I am. . . It's how we talk."

He hesitated again, and when I met his gaze, his expression was now etched in confusion. "I-I tried to find you."

"I tried to find _you_—did you block me?" I asked, my voice dropping.

He half shook his head, running his fingers stiffly back through his hair. "I couldn't _find_ you to block you, Baby. Besides, I wouldn't have blocked you anyway—I would have asked you what the hell was going on."

"I would have done the same thing," I admitted, severing his gaze to process it. If he couldn't find me, he must have been _prevented_ from finding me. And then it dawned on me. I sighed, suddenly feeling as exhausted as Edward had suggested. "Could . . . could _Alice_ have blocked me from your account?" I asked, apprehensively. Almost shying away from him, knowing exactly what his reaction would be.

The confusion immediately fell from his expression before his entire face tensed, then darkened. "Fuck me. . ." he uttered, lowly, but with a sense of resignation.

And just like that, it was back to Alice, and the ultimate betrayal she'd committed against her brother. Something he was finding hard to let go of. It was something he was eventually going to have to release—even forgive—because I knew the longer Edward remained trapped in the past by it, the longer his anger would fester—giving over more and more of himself to it.

Giving over more of us.

Pulling himself from the bed, he stood in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips silently fuming to himself, before he snapped, "For someone '_forced into it'_"—he quoted sarcastically with his fingers—"she sure went the extra fucking mile!"

I only dropped my forehead into my palm, massaging my brow with the tips of my fingers, dejectedly. The truth was I didn't want to waste any more energy on Alice—or Edward's mother. I was over it; it didn't matter to me anymore, because all I wanted to be focused on was _this_ moment in time. Me and him, right now.

"Can you check, Bella—I don't want to fucking deal with it," he said lowly, before disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door so hard I jumped, while startling Buddy awake.

Taking a resigned breath, I pulled my laptop from my bedside table, and switched it on. I attempted to log on to his Facebook using his Gmail, but the password he used for most sites was wrong.

"Honey!?" I called out to him.

He stuck his head around the bathroom door a moment later, dripping wet. "Do you need my password?" he asked, raising his brows.

I only nodded, half shrugging a shoulder.

He opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly stopped himself, breaking into a sheepish grin. "Buttercup1," he finally answered, mumbling, and rubbing the back of his head.

I immediately smirked, knowingly, feeling it turn affectionate. "You are such a sap," I teased him.

He only winked, flashing me a quick, altogether too charming grin, before again closing the door.

The first thing I did after logging in was check his "blocked list". Alice was on it, and so was I. With a brash huff, I removed myself, before sending out friend requests to me, as well as Rach and Nummi. He'd obviously never checked it, but then why would he feel the need to? I'd never checked mine, nor had I suspected that anyone had ever hacked into my account to further their lie. Something that Alice had obviously done, and considering the amount of times Edward was even on his account it was no surprise that he'd never noticed.

The last status he'd made was over a year ago, and the majority of photos on his wall were from other people tagging him. Most of them were photos from his ambulance company. Of him in that ridiculously appealing navy blue uniform with the people he worked with. Though, many were of him tagged by Kate; of the two of them together. And the last few were tagged by Jazz, of Edward at he and Alice's wedding, and to say Edward looked reluctant to be there was the understatement of the century. He looked irritated at best, his hands shoved into the pants of his tux, a blatant frown creasing his brow, as he stood beside Jazz at the altar of the church.

A notice popped up. Rach had accepted his friend request; she was online. After logging out of Edward's account, I logged into my own; opening up a chat window with her. While I waited for Rach to answer my message, I skimmed over my wall. It was as empty as Edward's had been. I'd uploaded a few photos of me and him recently, and Ang had tagged me in the photo she'd taken of that first night in front of the restaurant, but prior to that there was virtually nothing. I existed only in other people's lives, but had been absent in my own.

Proof my life had paused without him.

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**A/N: thanks for reading, and maybe leave me your thoughts?**  
**MWAH xoxo**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Yay updating on time-whodathunk? I've been writing a lot lately. I'm on a social media hiatus as my fast for the forty days leading to Passover and I have so much free time on my hands, I've been writing like a crazy mofo. So hopefully I'll redeem myself for all my past tardiness. Or not.  
Anywho, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

*****Can't Help Myself - by Four Tops. No copyright infringement intended*****

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 21**

**Edward's POV**

Bella's father stayed for a week, and by the end of it, I'd promised him one thing: to put a ring on his daughter's finger and make an honest woman out of her.

I had every intention of it, and it's not that I hadn't been thinking about it since the very moment we'd found each other again. I had. I also had the ring; I'd bought it three weeks later, but I was never able to find the right time. In the beginning I didn't want to freak her out by it being too soon, and then I found out about what that piece of shit, Newton, had done to her, completely fucking throwing me off track.

Of course, then she'd got pregnant, and we'd lost the baby—and I almost lost her—and with Bella being Bella she would have thought I was asking her to marry me out of pity. Pain in the ass that she was. Never mind that I'd already told her I wanted to marry her, baby or no baby.

I'd transferred from Seattle to Port Angeles for her; I'd moved to Forks to be with her—I'd move to fucking Siberia if that's where she was. There wasn't a place on this damn planet that I wouldn't follow her to, but even now she could still be so walled up. Things were never easy with her. I'd always had to fight for her, and I probably always would. It's not that I cared anymore; I knew what it was like to exist without her. There was no other alternative.

I figured once I got her past the miscarriage, and the whole business with her fertility, we'd be okay again. But just to get her to open up and cry over the baby took two fucking weeks—she was that fucking stubborn—but afterward, she started to relax and smile again, and she became more plugged into the world with me again, instead of the fairy land—or where ever the hell it was—that she'd retreated to.

A couple of weeks after we came back to Forks, I had to start work at Olympic Ambulance, and for the first month I was on night shift. Only, once I was back at work, Bella suddenly appeared more at ease—as if my fucking presence was the reason she hadn't been. I was beginning to think I was the cause—that I'd never be any good for her—going down that fucking dark road again, but then she'd jump me every morning. Literally and eagerly, like she hadn't seen me for months; the moment I walked through the door, and no matter how exhausted either one of us was.

As poetic as it was, it was fucking painful, because for the first few weeks, I literally didn't want to touch her. The result of it had almost killed her last time, after all, but I should have known she'd never let me wallow in that mindset. And let's face it, I wouldn't have been fucking male if I was able to withstand her advances. The little vixen knew just what to do to get me going, and she soon figured out how to get around it without it being physically painful for her.

I just assumed that being alone while I was at work had given her the opportunity to deal with everything she'd been through. She also spent a lot of time at Angela and Ben's while I wasn't home; Angela was good for her. The only downside was being around Lilly made Bella incredibly clucky, and it was still something we hadn't sorted out—whether or not she could get pregnant, or at least, _stay_ pregnant. Whatever the case, she was soon back to being my Bella, and I wasn't going to knock it. I was just glad to put the past couple of months behind us. It was fucking gut wrenching, and I couldn't stand to see her go through anymore heart ache.

Surely we were done.

After six weeks at home, Bella went back to work at the restaurant. I knew she missed it—despite the fact that while I stayed on night shift we barely saw each other. We ate dinner together, then I went to work, and when I came home in the morning, I climbed in bed beside her for the hour or two before her alarm went off for work. This was usually when we had sex, or had a quickie—depending on how much time we had. After, she made the two of us breakfast, then she went to work and I went to bed. I got up around two or three in the afternoon, fed Buddy, and then had a couple of hours until she came home. Sometimes Jake came around, or Chief Swan, or Ben; otherwise, I went to the restaurant and helped her lock up. Despite her uncle assuring me that Newton was now living in Tacoma, it still haunted me what the bastard had done to her. Rest assured I would kill the piece of shit if he ever came near her again.

In any case, for the first couple of months that was our life. I missed sleeping with her, but being new at the station, I had to pay my dues on night shift. We still timed our days off together, and other than leaving the house to have dinner at her uncle's, we usually didn't leave the bedroom.

We'd finally got back on track—to where we were before she'd lost the baby—and I started to make plans for the perfect moment to propose to her, but then I found them.

I found them, and _everything_ was thrown in the air. I didn't know what the fuck to think. Was Bella fucking schizophrenic? Was she losing her mind, or when she'd died, had she _actually_ experienced _something_?

It was because of her fleabag of a four-legged companion that I found them. The little shit was a kleptomaniac; he was stealing shit and stuffing it in his dog house. In the beginning the little pervert had a thing for Bella's bras, but then he moved onto car keys, purses, wallets, belts, and then anything he could get his paws on. He even dragged photos from the wall, and pulled pots and pans from the cupboards. Eventually the little shit did it in front of us, brazenly; hauling ass to his dog house with me in pursuit. Not that it was hard to tell when he'd been at it. The guilt was written all over the little fleabag's face, and he'd go hiding, then wouldn't come when we called him—even for dinner, and the little fucker loved his food more than he loved Bella.

So, frisking the little asshole, and cleaning out his stash, became an everyday occurrence for us. In the end, it became _my_ job, because Bella could never punish him—if locking the little asshole in the basement for an hour could be called punishment. Bella always snuck him dog treats when she thought I wasn't paying attention, making it ten times worse. I tried to tell her she was rewarding his behavior, but she was a lost cause when it came to that dog, and I started to think that if we ever did have kids, I'd have to be the one to discipline them.

Then the little shit took Bella's engagement ring and I was going to kill him.

I knew immediately something was up, because he didn't greet me when I came home in the morning, like he usually did. Usually the little fucker practically knocked me on my ass, jumping all over me, but this time, I spotted him cowering behind a tree at the far end of the backyard, head down and tail between his legs; in typical just-pulled-off-a-heist fashion.

"What have you taken now, you little asshole?" I called out to him, pointing my finger to him as he attempted, unsuccessfully, to hide his guilty ass further behind the tree.

But fuck it, I was too tired to raid his dog house, and as I dragged myself upstairs, I made a mental note to do it after I woke up.

Bella was out cold like she usually was at this time of the morning, looking ridiculously fucking adorable, with her hand pressed against her face. I only grinned to myself, before reefing my shirt over my head and kicking off my shoes, shoving them in the closet. She started to stir, not that it took much to wake her up, but I was still careful not to disturb her more as I climbed under the covers behind her.

"Hey, honey," she mumbled sleepily, turning to curl herself against me.

"Hey, baby," I murmured, planting my lips against her bare shoulder. "Have a good night?"

She only hummed in reply, pressing herself further into me and connecting her lips to the base of my throat, before reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck.

"Your little shit of a son is looking guiltier than usual this morning," I teased her, before getting distracted by her mouth.

She laughed beneath her breath, the air shooting through her nose and against my face, before she severed her lips from mine. "That's because he knows you're not his real dad."

It was a running joke between us, and the pain in the ass fleabag that she adored, but as I rolled Bella on top of me, running my hands beneath her singlet top until they were covering her breasts, the little fucker was soon the last thing on my mind.

And hour later, Bella's alarm went off, and sliding out of bed to wrap her robe around her naked body, she pulled me up with her. She was always a morning person, but I was a moody son of a bitch, as I allowed her to practically carry my semi-conscious weight downstairs.

I was better if I didn't sleep in the hours before she got up, but after ten hours at work, and then coming home and ravishing that body of hers, it pretty much drained me.

"I think the little bugger's been in the garage—I left it open last night," Bella explained, placing a coffee in front of me, just as I immediately straightened up, my blood running fucking cold.

I'd hidden her ring in the garage, because I knew how much of a neat freak she was; she was bound to find it if I put it in the house somewhere. And, come to think of it, the little shit had watched me hide it.

"That little prick!" I burst, my anger merging with the sudden fear that the asshole had eaten it, before I leaped from the table, heading for the back door; grabbing his leash as I went.

I ended up chasing the little fucker down in the pre-dawn light, still only wearing a pair of boxer shorts, before dragging him back to the house. He resisted the whole way, pulling on the leash, and crying and carrying on like I was torturing the little asshole.

"Edward!" Bella exclaimed, less than impressed with me as I dragged his whimpering ass into the basement, tail between his legs.

"This is getting ridiculous!" I blurted, after slamming the basement door, only for Bella to shove past me to go rescue her beloved little embezzler.

"What did you leave in the garage that was so important?" she demanded, her brow bunched up like I'd lost the plot, after coming up from the basement, with the little shit's howls behind her.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I had nothing, and I needed to come up with something that would explain my reaction, without raising her suspicions. Because, let's face it, it was hard to get anything past her at the best of times. She had an uncanny way of reading me—even more than my lying little rat of a sister once had.

"I-I had all my paperwork in there—from work," I lied through my teeth, before breaking her gaze to rub the back of my head and grimacing—with the knowledge that I might have to go through the little asshole's crap to retrieve it.

If I did, the little prick's days of living a cushy life inside the house were over—not that Bella would allow that to happen, or anything.

"Why would you leave it in the garage?" she asked, sounding even more confused, and less convinced, as she flashed me that cynical look of hers.

"I don't know," I snapped impatiently, knowing she was already onto me; I was the world's fucking shittiest liar. "I got distracted."

With her suspicion increasing by the second, she placed my breakfast down on the table. "Well, I think you have him contained for the moment. Eat your breakfast, first, dorkous."

Begrudgingly, I sat down, before with a small smile inching on her lips, Bella walked behind me and wrapped her arms around my head; burying her face against my hair. "It wasn't something you didn't want me to find, was it?"

Fuck my life!

Groaning, just barely beneath my breath, I let my head flop into my outstretched hand, rubbing my forehead heavily.

Chuckling softly to herself, she kissed the top of my head quickly, before tilting my head back to kiss my lips.

Yeah, there wasn't much I could get past the little vixen, and as she moved back away from me, I grabbed the back of her robe, pulling her on my lap. "You're such a pain in the ass," I murmured, before dropping my face into her neck and grabbing her tits.

She jerked impulsively, before pulling herself off me, smiling subtly to herself. "Behave yourself."

"So, I was thinking," she began after sitting opposite me at the table. I glanced up at her. "I was thinking I should get that surgery done." And all of a sudden that vulnerable look crept back in her eyes.

I was about to shovel a forkful of bacon in my mouth, when I paused. "Are you sure about that, baby?" Because knowing our fucking luck lately, it'd just be more bad news, and we'd only just got past the last of it.

She shrugged, glancing down at her plate. "I'd rather know now, before we. . ."

"Before we . . . _what_?" I prompted, my voice softening, teasing her in an attempt to distract her.

She glanced back up at me, a wry grin breaking across her face. "Before we _propagate_, you dork."

I laughed lightly. "Well, shouldn't we get hitched first? Or do you want me knocking you up with more illegitimate children?"

"Can you be serious!" she demanded; though, she wasn't really angry.

I only grinned at her gently for a moment, before forcing it from my expression. "Okay, I'm serious."

"I just think if we need IVF we should find out now, and that way we can plan ahead," she explained, her voice softening, before she reached up and tugged on her bottom lip.

Reaching over, I grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. "Okay, baby."

"I've been reading about this Gynecologist in Seattle and he has one of the best IVF success rates in the country—and apparently the waiting list is a mile long," she explained, looking down at her food, before taking a mouthful of scrambled egg.

"Babe, they might be able to unblock you—you might not need IVF," I reminded her.

"I know," she agreed. "But it doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"Miss Organized, aren't you." I broke into a smile.

"Well . . . I could be _Mrs. Organized_, but I suspect you like _living a life of debauchery_ with me," she joked, impersonating her father, and sounding altogether too much fucking like him.

"Jesus—with the pressure, woman!" I teased her again, feigning irritation, while in response she only arched that cynical eyebrow at me. I chuckled, conceding. "You're a pain in the ass!"

Smiling knowingly to herself she continued eating.

"Besides," I added, with a mouthful of bacon, making her brow immediately crease, repulsed, "if I knocked you up again, before dragging your ass down the aisle first, I suspect your father would rip my dick off."

Continuing to smile to herself in that warm kind of amusement she held for me, she shook her head. "You have such a way with words."

After finishing breakfast, Bella went to have a shower, while I tidied up the kitchen. I was fucking itching to raid the fleabag's dog house, but I decided to wait until after Bella left for work; this was despite the fact that she already suspected what it was her thief of a four-legged shithead had more than likely ingested.

After seeing her off at the front porch I waited for her car to completely disappear down the driveway, before I headed to the garage. I had to be sure, after all, but just as I expected, the place where I'd hidden the little box containing Bella's ring, was empty.

"You bad boy!" I hollered at Buddy; who Bella had let out of solitary confinement before she'd left.

He only hauled ass back inside through the dog door, as guilty as fucking sin.

With my thoughts bordering on Golden Retriever homicide, I half crawled inside his fucking lair, and after rummaging around under his blankets and fucking stuffed toys, I found the little blue box. It was slightly mauled, with a gallon of fucking saliva over it, but it was still intact.

Pausing for a moment, and holding my fucking breath, I opened it—only to let it out in relief a moment later. The two carat round diamond ring still sat wedged inside, unharmed.

"You just dodged a bullet, you little shit!" I warned him through the kitchen window, where the little asshole had been surveilling me, as I headed back to the house.

The little fucker then had the audacity to fucking bark at me, as if a pane of glass between us was enough protection to give him the confidence.

Shoving the box in my pocket, I quickened my step for the back door, just as the little asshole bolted—to the sounds of the dishes, that were still drying on the sink, no doubt being knocked to the floor.

"Fuck me sideways," I muttered, as I walked into the mess of broken glass and china on the kitchen floor. "You better get a job, you little asshole!" I yelled, before pulling the broom and dustpan out of the closet.

Once I'd finished cleaning up, I fed the little shit—after promising Bella I wouldn't poison him—before dragging my ass upstairs to bed. The little fleabag then had the nerve to try and suck up to me, jumping on the bed and putting his head on my chest, giving me those fucking eyes.

Closing my eyes, I groaned loudly, pushing my fingers back through my hair in fucking defeat. "Okay, okay—good boy," I conceded, before being assaulted by the goof's drool. "Go to sleep," I mumbled, patting his belly, before he flopped beside me.

When I woke, it was just after midday, to the sound of Buddy ransacking the closet.

"Hey!" I called sharply, startling him. "Get the hell out of there!"

In the next moment he raced toward the door, with what looked like, a large notebook in his mouth.

"That's it!" I snapped, jumping out of bed after him. "You are so dead, you little shit!"

After cornering him in his dog house, I grabbed his collar, dragging his hairy ass out. He still held the book clamped in his mouth, while he made a noise that sounded half way between a growl and a whine.

"Buddy—drop it!" I commanded him, but he only made the noise again, as if the little shit was challenging me.

I ended up having to wrangle the fucking thing from him. The little asshole eventually thought we were playing a game of tug of war.

After getting it off him, I dragged Buddy back inside by the collar, and after tossing the notebook on the kitchen table, I hauled his ass back into the basement.

"You're a bad boy!" I scolded him, before slamming the door; to the sounds of that pathetic screechy sound he made that always turned Bella into a puddle of water. "That won't work on me, you little bullshitter!"

Fuck me," I muttered, running both my hands back through my hair, fucking exhausted already, "and that crazy girl of mine wants to have kids. . ."

I headed back to the kitchen to make myself a coffee, before jumping in the shower when I caught sight of the notebook I'd flung on the table. It was opened to what looked like a photocopy . . . of me. . .

Curiously, I picked it up, inspecting it further, only to realize it wasn't a photocopy; it was a drawing—a sketch—of me, with so much intricate detail it could have almost passed for a black and white photo.

I only stared at it, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, because unless I was going fucking insane, it was a sketch of me in that trashy hotel room I'd stayed in after I'd thought Bella had had an abortion. I was sitting on that filthy unmade fucking bed, looking like death, with one hand cradling my head and the other clutching a bottle.

_Everything_ was exactly how I remembered it—down to the last detail; the curtains in the room, what I was wearing, even the fucking bottle of bourbon I was holding in my hand.

I was lost for words—literally.

Who the fuck could have drawn this—and how the hell could they have known?

I never told anyone where I'd stayed. Hell, I don't think I even knew where the fuck I was.

I turned the page; it was another drawing of me, but this time I knew exactly where I was and what was happening. It was only a couple of months ago, and a day I would never fucking forget; I was sitting in that hospital waiting room, waiting for them to tell me Bella was gone, while beside me was Rose.

Again, not one possible detail was missing, and it was as exact as if it was a photo, capturing every detail of what I was feeling. Whoever the hell had drawn this had some incredible talent, but it still didn't even come close to making any sense. Bella had described this moment to me a couple of days after her surgery, but I knew Bella couldn't have drawn it, because Bella couldn't even manage fucking stick figures.

We'd played Pictionary in Australia when we'd gone for Kel's funeral. I remembered it clearly, and Bella was so terrible at drawing we had to cheat!

I turned page after page, and the more I turned the more my confusion turned to fucking shock and disbelief. There were drawings of Bella and me, when we were young, and some were so intimate, only we would have known about them. Having sex in her bed at her uncle's house was one of them, and another was the hotel room in Sydney, as well as in the back of her car at the place in the woods we used to drive to.

There were sketches of angels—angels around me in that same hospital room, and there were drawings of trees; meadows; streams; and stars. Of a girl with blonde hair, who I recognized almost immediately; though, I couldn't quite admit it to myself. There were drawings of Nummi and Rach, and of Bella—at every possible age, with her mother, her father, her uncle and cousin. Even drawings of her with Alice.

And then there were the drawings of a little girl and a baby, who looked only a couple of months old. At first, I confused this little girl with the pictures of Bella when she was younger, but I quickly realized the difference. Bella's eyes were deep and dark—they were immediately recognizable, but this little girl's eyes were different; they were lighter.

And the baby . . . the baby looked like fucking me!

Slamming the book back on the table, I let myself drop into one of the chairs, burying my face in my hands. I couldn't get my head around it, because the only possible argument was that Bella had drawn them.

But how, and where the fuck did she learn to draw like that? And how the fuck did she even know about half the things she'd drawn—like the pictures of me when I first started working at Tri-Med Ambulance. That was when we were apart!

But what disturbed me the most was that Bella had been drawing these sketches—these amazing, fucking pictures—and not once did she ever tell me about them. There were scores of them—she must have been drawing them for months, and she didn't give away a single clue.

How could she have kept something so huge from me? But then how the hell did I not know?

The fucking dog knew, but I didn't!

I sat at that fucking kitchen table, for fuck knows how long, staring at the pictures over and over again—until the sun fell behind the trees, and Buddy began scratching at the basement door, whining to get out.

I got up and opened the door for the little shit, before returning to the table and the sketchbook, trying in vain to understand them. To understand how Bella, the person I knew better than anyone—the person who fucking mattered to me more than my own life—could have drawn them.

Then I got it.

She'd been drawing these pictures when I was at work. It had helped her get passed what had happened, and she didn't tell me about it, because she knew I would never have understood. I would never have believed her. She knew me—she knew me better than I knew myself, and she was right.

I wouldn't have, but then I was the stupid fucking prick who'd thought she'd run off and had an abortion without telling me. I told myself the night I found her again, that I would never believe a thing unless I heard it from her, and then something fucking monumental happens to her, and when she'd tried to tell me, I'd only brushed her aside. I just figured she'd been tripping on Epinephrine or Atropine or whatever the hell they'd given her to restart her heart.

Fuck, I probably would have thought she was losing her mind.

She knew what I wanted to name the baby, for fuck sake! The same baby she'd told me was coming back—and I'd only humored her. How could I have doubted her?

I gazed down at the sketch book again, suddenly feeling like I was reading her diary. Feeling like I was invading her fucking privacy. This was personal to her; it was intimate. Something she couldn't share with me, but in it I saw how important I was to her, because she'd drawn _me_ more than anything else. She'd drawn me from the inside out, during the years when we were separated—when I could barely fucking breathe without her.

Whatever the hell had happened to her, I had to respect that it had been real for her, because let's face it, nothing was going to explain away these pictures. And, I couldn't demand she explain it to me, or even demand why she'd never told me, because I would never get it. How could I?

The only thing I knew was that Bella had died. I saw it with my own eyes, and where ever the hell she'd gone, she was still with me.

**. . .**

Grabbing the sketchbook, I took it back to the bedroom and stashed it under the pile of clothes in the closet, that the little fleabag had been into, before I jumped in the shower. By the time I got out, and came back downstairs, Bella was just coming through the front door.

"Hey, mister—you were quiet today," she greeted me, her face completely relaxing into a warm smile.

"Hey, Baby," I replied, my voice remaining too compromised, before I engulfed her against me.

She tensed, pushing off my chest to gaze up at me, her expression falling in concern. "What's the matter, honey? You look . . . frazzled. . ."

"I'm okay," I replied, flashing her a quick grin. "I just had a shitty sleep, and that pain in the ass furball of yours. . ."

Her brow creased, before she groaned to herself, despite obviously attempting not to break into a grin. "What did he do?"

"He trashed our bedroom closet, and I caught the little shit trying to steal your clothes again." Okay, only a slight deviation from the truth.

Her groan increased, her amusement giving way to exasperation, before she rested her brow against my chest.

This time it was me who was amused, pushing it through my nose, before I dropped my lips to the top of her head.

"Maybe we should take him to the vet," she suggested with a sigh.

"Maybe we should bury him in the backyard," I teased her, laughing beneath my breath, when she immediately whacked me.

"Edward—that's terrible!"

I grabbed her hands, pulling her further into the living room with me. "Come dance with me, gorgeous," I urged her, making her brow quirk so cynically, I laughed again. "Stop being such a pain in the ass, woman, and loosen up!"

She only sighed in resignation, allowing me to pull her along with me. "Why is this necessary?" she questioned me, her grin turning knowing, as I twirled her slowly around, before pulling her back to my chest.

Taking her purse off her shoulder, I tossed it to the sofa, pulling her even closer to me, slowing it down, before bending down to press my lips to her neck.

"Shouldn't we have music to dance?" she teased me, relenting and relaxing against me.

"You're my sugar pie, honey bunch," I sang, murmuring it against her skin, before pulling back, "you know that I love you."

Smiling at me wryly again, she only scoffed softly through her nose, shaking her head.

I twirled her again, and the klutz was so terrible at it, I had to quickly right her, before pulling her back to me. "I can't help myself"—yeah, I was singing to her, like the _sap _she often called me, but she did say we needed music—"I love you and nobody else. . ."

"You big cheeseball," she said warmly, her grin turning tender, before she reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck.

I continued to hum the words I didn't know, as I moved her around the room, stumbling with her feet and making her laugh several times.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch," I repeated, bringing her close to me to kiss her, "I'll do anything you ask me to." I dropped my lips to her neck again, nuzzling her skin and inhaling her in. "I can't help myself. I want you and nobody else."

She only continued to flash me that smile, as if she wasn't sure whether I was completely nuts or just really cheesy, before she kissed me back, chuckling softly against my lips, as I repeatedly hummed the song to her.

"What am I going to do with you," she murmured, curling her body against mine, before I pulled, the ring from my pocket and dipped her.

"Marry me, Bella."

* * *

**A/N: Ye gods, I think I out-cheesed even myself.  
Let me know what you think and I'll see you soon.  
*smooch***


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: just a quickie this time; it's everything that needed to be said, and if I added more, it'd just be fluff and filler.**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Because of you **

**Chapter 22**

**Edward's POV**

"You're going to need IVF."

It was six fucking words that we were warned to be prepared for, but they still hit hard. The midline obstruction of Bella's fallopian tube was too extensive and couldn't be cleared. On top of it, the last ectopic pregnancy had also left scar tissue.

In a nutshell, we were fucking screwed, and having babies wasn't going to be easy, and more than likely fucking expensive.

But, hey, it's not like anything had _ever _been easy for us.

The only positive was that the chance of us fucking up and Bella having another ectopic pregnancy again was basically non-existent. We'd beaten the odds with the last one, apparently.

Like that was some kind of consolation.

Poor Bella . . . she only sat beside me, opposite her Gynaecologist, her expression turning blank as she appeared to absorb his words, before her eyes slowly welled with tears.

I grabbed her hand, squeezing it, and she turned to me, flashing me this completely brave, but broken fucking smile, nodding quickly, before turning back to the doctor. She was holding strong.

For now.

After a short prep talk—about how hundreds of thousands of babies are born per year through IVF—we were referred to an infertility clinic here in Port Angeles before we left.

Taking Bella's hand in mine, I pulled my arm over her head and around her shoulders, easing her closer to me.

"I'm okay," she mumbled, leaning against me for a moment as I pushed through the entry doors and out onto the street. "I kind of knew. . ."

She released my hand to curve her arm around my back, before grabbing a fistful of my shirt. I stopped, before turning fully to face her.

"Tell me what you want to do, baby, and we'll do it," I promised her. "Do you want to make an appointment with the fertility clinic in Seattle to see that doctor you were telling me about?"

She shrugged, glancing at the ground and tugging on her lower lip, beginning to look fucking defeated. "I read, on average, it takes three years to get in to see him."

"Well, surely there's other good doctors there," I attempted to reason with her, reaching over to remove her hand from her face. "Or . . . do you want to get married first?"

It'd been a couple of weeks since I'd proposed to her, and her father had already insisted on paying for the wedding. I kind of got the impression that he was hurrying us down the aisle—probably worried I'd knock her up again. Not that it was even possible anymore, but in truth, if Bella wanted to elope or even get married in fucking Vegas tomorrow, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

We'd been back together for six months now, and I still had this fucking panic in the bottom of my heart that I was going to lose her again. I guess I was still hung over from those six years without her, so it wouldn't bother me how we tied the knot, just so long as we did.

Bella wasn't the type of person who'd want a big, flashy wedding, but I still knew she wanted something special; even if it was small. I wouldn't take it away from her, even if I was a needy son of a bitch. Besides, they were essentially girly things anyway, and Bella was still one of those. She'd already recruited Angela to take the photos, so whatever she wanted I'd still be there.

She smiled warmly to herself, before looking down at her ring, running her thumb over it. "Yeah, I do . . . but I want to get the tests done, to make sure I'm suitable, so I'll know that when we're ready we can go ahead with it." Tilting her head, she gauged me, while the look in her eyes began to cripple me. They were hopeful, but at the same time anxious and uneasy.

"Okay," I agreed softly, sliding my hand back around her again and leading her to the car.

"I really just . . . don't want to think about it for a while. . ." she confessed after a moment, expelling a heavy breath.

"Want me to distract you?" I asked, nudging her gently and again making a smile break across her face, before it quickly turned wry.

"I wouldn't object to it," she murmured.

So, for the next couple of months, I distracted her—a lot. If that's what we were calling it now, but as it was, planning a wedding was the perfect distraction for her. She was frustrated more than anything else. It was the lack of options, mostly, because let's be honest, it's not as if Forks, and its surrounding towns, offered much when it came to planning a wedding.

On our days off together, we took a lot of trips to Port Angeles, and to Seattle and Olympia—my fucking sister's home town—for everything from the invitations, the cake, flowers and car hire. Bella wanted a church wedding, but this didn't surprise me; ever since Bella went to _Middle Earth_ and back—as I teased her—she was a lot more . . . spiritual. We had things around the house, we'd never had before—crosses and angels mostly. Angels of every variety you could imagine. Bears with wings, babies with wings; Chris Hemsworth with wings. Okay, not exactly. Bella had informed me his name was "Michael", but still, there was something seriously fucking unnerving about a twelve inch statue of a Greek God, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, with a pair of outstretched wings, holding a humongous sword watching over you while you're having sex.

And that fucker's sword was a lot bigger than mine. . .

So long as Bella didn't want to dress as a Nun for the next Halloween, I was okay about it. Though, I had a suspicion she might want to dress me as "Michael". Come to think of it, I was pretty sure I'd tainted her body and soul, well beyond the realm of spiritual purity, so Bella running off to join "The Little Sisters of the Poor" didn't exactly seem likely. Then, I guess being constantly confronted with God's fucking representative of male perfection was my punishment for violating her.

And fucking poetically, the little shithead of a Golden Retriever hadn't once attempted to steal "Archangel Hemsworth". I actually think the little coward was scared of it.

I suspected we had that in common. . .

So, a church wedding it was; where I'm sure Michael would continue to watch over us, pointing his sword at me in disapproval like he did most nights. That was, of course, if I wasn't struck by lightning the moment I stepped foot inside the building. I still suspected I might have told God to fuck himself, the time I OD'd on alcohol—and self-disgust—after all.

We booked in Saint Paul's Episcopal Church in Port Gamble for October 11th—three months from now. It was the only time her father could guarantee he'd be on leave, and Bella wanted him to walk her down the aisle. Not that I was complaining, but it didn't give us a lot of time.

The venue for the reception wasn't as easy. Most were outdoors, and any time past September Bella went into hibernation mode. I didn't want her getting hypothermia at our wedding, or catching pneumonia.

Eventually we decided to have it at the house. We found a place that hired wedding tents, and tables and chairs, with the full set up the night before included in the price. That way we could at least have portable heaters so that Bella, as well as Nummi and Rach, didn't freeze their tits off.

That was the next problem we were faced with; getting Nummi and Rach over here. Bella's father had given her his account details to charge all the wedding costs to, but I don't think it included flying over her best friends from Australia, and asking them to pay for air tickets on such short notice was shitty.

In the end, we decided to pay for them. I wasn't exactly happy that her father had insisted on paying for everything, so it was something of a consolation.

As it turned out, with Bella as organized as she was, everything had pretty much been arranged, booked and ordered with six weeks to go. The only thing she still needed to finish taking care of was her dress. A dressmaker in Seattle was making it. Something Rose had helped her out with, apparently—not that I was allowed to know much about it. But with Rose and Bella communicating Emmett took it as a green fucking light to worm his way back in with me. In September I was taking Bella to Seattle for her birthday, and of course Emmett conned dinner out of us, by getting Rose to ask Bella. I wasn't sure if Bella knew what to think with Rose, but she was happy to visit her and Emmett; dragging me fucking along with her. Yeah, I was really looking forward to it, but I did miss the kid.

So with everything basically prepared—all we had to do was decide on the guests, before getting the invitations printed and sent.

"Okay," Bella began, after sitting us down at the dining table, pen and notepad in hand and appearing to almost shrink away from me, "who do you want to invite from your family? Emmett and Rose?"

I thought about if for a moment, feeling my thoughts darken, before answering stiffly, "And EJ."

In truth, if I could have gotten away with just inviting Rose and EJ, I would have, but I suppose I did need a best man. . .

"No one else?" she asked, simply.

"No," I replied lowly.

"Not Jazz . . . ?" she breached apprehensively, her brow creasing as if she was anticipating my response.

"He'll bring Alice," I replied stiffly, glancing away from her.

"Okay," she replied, half mumbling, before adding the names to her list, but she still looked troubled.

"You . . . don't want to invite anyone else . . . do you?" I questioned her.

She hesitated for a moment, before answering, "No, but they're you're family . . . I don't know. I thought I should at least ask." And half shrugging, her eyes dropped back to her notepad. "By the way," she piped up a moment later, again meeting my gaze, "I've been deemed a '_suitable candidate'_ for IVF."

I smiled broadly, happy to have some fucking good news for once. "See, in no time there'll be dozens of the little fuckers running around."

She broke into an immediate grin, full of that all-knowing, cynical kind of affection that was typical of her. "You are such an eloquent person, Edward," she teased me warmly, before she turned her attention back to her list.

Peering closer, I read some of the names, surprised by who was written down. "Babe, is that Jessica Crowley, as in Jessica _Stanley_?" I asked, in almost disbelief. The same Jessica Stanley who I'd almost fucked when I was seventeen, just to get back at Bella; when I thought she was with that fuckwit, Newton.

She glanced back up at me, nodding her head, her expression appearing just as surprised as mine. "It _is_—it's so strange. Today at the restaurant she came up to pay her bill—she's there most days that I seriously think she has some kind of aversion to cooking. Anyway, she congratulated me on our engagement and then asked if she was invited to the wedding. I told her she was—I didn't know what to say."

"Jesus, maybe she's been to Middle Earth, as well," I said, lightly; though I was genuinely fucking disturbed by it. In high school, Jessica Stanley was the biggest whore you could imagine, and she was an abject fucking bitch to Bella.

"Would you stop saying that!" Bella demanded, throwing her pen at me; though, she only appeared minimally frustrated by me, before shaking her head lightly to herself, begrudgingly.

I chuckled, rolling the pen back over to her. "Well, stranger things could happen—I could be friends with Jake!"

"That one still throws me," she replied, wryly.

"So, are you and _skankville _BFFs now?" I teased her, my laughter increasing by her expression.

"Edward, that's terrible! I really don't think she's been like that since high school. Anyway, do you know what she told me?" she asked, her voice dropping, appearing serious for a moment.

"What did she tell you?" I imitated her, smothering my laughter through my nose this time, attempting to keep a straight face, when she immediately glared at me.

Rolling her eyes, she broke into a conceding smile. "Will you be bloody serious for a moment?"

"Okay, okay, I'm being _bloody_ serious—get on with it, woman!"

She scowled at me, not even minimally convincing, before taking a deliberate breath; her voice once again softening. "She told me in senior year how _Mike Newton_"—her voice blatantly restricted around the prick's name, making me immediately fucking aggravated—"_raped_ her."

"Fuck. . ." I muttered, fucking seriously this time, knowing the piece of shit came very close to doing the same thing to Bella.

Something that would have forfeited that bastard's life!

She only nodded in understanding, her brow knotted, clearly troubled by it, before continuing, "She told me Tyler found her not long after, and they got really close, and then she apologized for being so horrible to me in high school."

"How come she never reported it?" I asked, attempting to throw off the sudden edginess, because after all, if she _had_ that piece of shit might not have gone after Bella.

She shook her head in confusion, admitting, "I'm not sure, but considering her reputation, maybe she was worried people wouldn't have believed her."

"That fucking prick was lucky I didn't rip his throat out," I said, darkly.

"Edward. . ." she complained with a sigh, forcing my attention back to her, "you're doing that face. . ." And it was clearly bothering her that I was, but it'd been years since she'd spoken those words to me.

I quickly snapped myself out of it, knowing it would probably take all fucking night to get that asshole from my thoughts, and Bella would be well aware of it. "So, if you're inviting _Jessica Stanley_, who _aren't_ you inviting?" I teased her, in an effort to lighten shit up again.

"Lauren Mallory, she's still a snot . . . and your parents, and sister." Her voice turned quiet, before her eyes dropped back to the notepad before her. "Sure you don't have any aunts and cousins you want to invite?" she asked without meeting my gaze as she began to draw idly on the paper.

I only watched her for a moment, gauging her, but I had no fucking clue what she was thinking.

"Bella . . ." I began, reaching over to place my hand over hers, as well as the pen, preventing her from continuing to scribble on the paper, and drawing her attention back to me. When she met my eyes, I put it to her. "Talk to me. Do you want me to invite them?"

"No," she said immediately, with a certain amount of conviction in her tone, but at the same time her expression began to appear anguished. "I don't think I could ever trust Alice again, but at the same time . . . I just don't see the point in being angry any more. The past is done, and we can't change it." She shook her head, seeming suddenly frustrated, before releasing her breath, shrugging again, hopelessly. "I don't know. . ."

I paused, contemplating it for a moment. I knew what Bella was trying to say, and I knew she wanted to let it go; I even suspected she wanted to forgive them. I just wasn't sure if I ever would. Maybe it was because it was my _family_ who'd done this, not just some random person I was friends with for a couple of years. It might have been different if it was, but _because_ it was my family—my fucking twin sister, no less—it made it not just a lie but a fucking betrayal. And what made it worse was that a very significant part of me was fucking gutted that I felt so much anger and animosity for Alice. That I was forced to cut her out of my life. But I knew with absolute fucking certainty that I would never have agreed to a plan that I knew would have caused Alice so much pain, but Alice not only went along with it, she allowed it to continue to the point that it wasn't only me and Bella who were affected. After all, I was going to marry someone, who in essence, I could barely fucking stand.

Not to mention, that during the first several months after Bella went to Australia, Alice had attempted to make me take the blame for her perpetuated fucking bullshit. "It was my fault she'd left;,I'd pushed her away; I'd never listened when everyone had tried to warn me," she'd drummed into me fucking over and over again, while all along Bella was only a few hundred miles away as fucking broken by their lies as much as I was.

And that was the main reason why I could never forgive Alice, because she'd hurt Bella as much as she'd hurt me, and because of decisions she'd never had any right in making, she'd directly, or indirectly—it didn't make a fucking difference—placed Bella in danger.

I ran my hand to the back of my neck, before dragging it forward through my hair, slamming it to the table, and making Bella jump—completely forgetting how uneasy it made her when I was this angry. But I wasn't angry; I was fucking frustrated, because for Bella I'd do anything, but I couldn't do this for her. "I'm sorry, baby. I just . . ."

I abandoned it, but I didn't need to elaborate, because Bella understood my meaning. But it's all I had.

She only nodded, conceding, but continuing to look fucking upset. "I know. . ." she whispered.

Grabbing her hand, I guided her around the side of the table, before pulling her onto my lap.

With a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around my neck, but didn't say anything.

"It's still raw for me, baby," I explained, pressing my lips against the curve of her neck, before burying my face against her skin,

"I know," she repeated, her voice soft, "but I can see it eating away at you, Edward. I know what it's doing to you, and it isn't only making you angry." She pulled back to gauge my eyes, seriously, before adding, "And I feel everything you feel. I always have."

Expelling my breath deeply, I groaned inwardly, in fucking resignation, until it eventually became audible. "You know how close I used to be with Alice?" I fessed up, meeting her gaze. She only nodded, her eyebrows drawing together, before her hand ran from around my neck to rest against the side of my face. "It fucking . . . _cut me_—what she did."

"I know it did, and it _still_ does. I-I just don't want you to let it in," she replied, her voice wavering, coming close to breaking, and sounding almost genuinely fearful, but I suddenly had no idea what she was referring to.

"Let _what _in?" I asked, my forehead bridging in confusion.

Her eyes immediately severed from mine, her expression knotting, before she cleared her throat. "Never mind. . ." she answered, quietly.

Cupping my palm to the side of her face, I forced her eyes back to mine. "I promise you, baby, I won't let it get in between us. I . . . just need a bit more time to deal with it."

She nodded, a faint smile warming her face, before she rested her brow against mine. "I just want you to be able to let all the anger and hurt go, but I can't tell you how to feel, honey—and I'm not exactly a great example, because it took me almost twenty years to get to that place with Renee."

Drawing in my breath, I released it again into a frustrated groan. "Yeah. . ." I murmured, once more planting my lips to her neck, before in one movement, I got to my feet, lifting Bella onto the table as I did. "Okay, enough of this heavy shit. How long has it been since I threw you over this table?"

Exhaling shortly into a smirk, she once more ran her hands to the back of my neck, anchoring me against her to kiss me. "Too long," she uttered against my lips, her breath flooding me.

**. . . **

Bella was right—I knew she was right—but how the fuck could I forgive Alice when every single time I looked at Bella, I was reminded of what she'd done?

I didn't want Bella to get anxious for me. Fuck knows she had enough to worry about, but every time I looked into her eyes I saw it. I saw the impact the last six years had had on her, and I remembered all over again what it had done to me. Because the very basis of who Bella and I were now had stemmed from it. That was the reality of it. Sure, I had her back, and I was happier than I had ever been in my life, but it was going to take a lot more than forgiving fucking Alice to erase the last six years from my memory.

Maybe I could when I stopped dreaming that I was married to Kate and Bella was still lost to me, or maybe when Bella stopped calling my name out in her sleep, as if she was having the same fucking dream.

The fact was, I wasn't ready to forgive, or forget, at the moment, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever be. I just had to start doing a better job at concealing it from Bella; how much it continued to fuck with me.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts, and I'll see you again next week. Chapter 23 will be back to Bella.**  
**MWAH xoxo**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: No, this chapter was not planned. It was refusing to talk to me. I started it five times and was forced to delete all of it, before I thought **_**fuck it, I'm just going to write and see what happens**_**. And viola. I tend to get a little too wordy when writing lemons. I like to compensate for the lack of smut. I'm weird like that.**

**Actually, I think I write with exposition on overdrive at the best of times - sans smut. **

**Also, I've decided that I'm not going to place myself on a schedule anymore. They make me crash and burn and suck the vocabulary clean out of me. So, for now on, I'm going to update when a chapter is finished. If it's every day then that's when I'll upload it. I like to average these chapters to be around 5 thousand words, so every day might be slightly optimistic, but stranger things have happened.**

**And thanks to my greatest fangirl, SammyHale, for being gracious enough to hold my hand like she always does for my lemons—if you can call what I write "lemons". As well as being the only person I will ever allow beta my stuff. **

**Loves ya long time, girlfriend *smooch***

**Anywho. . .**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 23**

**Bella's POV**

Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions; a new beginning, a union of souls—all that ridiculous, cheesy stuff—but ours hadn't even taken place and already I was beginning to have doubts; beginning to wish Edward and I had had the foresight to elope.

With weddings came family, and family for Edward was a four-letter word. He was becoming a boiling pot of anger, and while planning the wedding wasn't the cause, it was fuelling a lot of it; forcing him to confront too much at once.

He was still struggling to find a peace with Alice and his mother, so he could put everything behind him, but Edward was the kind of person you couldn't push. He did things in his own time, and he needed a way of releasing his pent up emotions, or it would quite literally shred him. Just talking was often never enough with him; he needed to go a lot deeper, and at the moment it was piling up and pushing him over the edge.

It was a lot of small things; extended family members we'd decided to invite, who then inserted themselves into the whole business with him and Alice—and who then had to be "uninvited". Alice continually contacting him, whether through Facebook, email or text message, pleading for another chance, and refusing to listen when he repeatedly demanded she leave him alone, and Emmett bringing it all up again every time we saw him, only to apologise profusely over it, and making Edward more and more on edge.

As you can imagine, it didn't take long for the situation to quickly come to a head.

With roughly a month until the wedding, we got a package in the mail from Edward's parents; a wedding gift. And of course, unsurprisingly, as soon as Edward discovered what it was he insisted on throwing it out, turning immediately irate and unwilling to see reason.

"I don't want that thing in the house, Bella!" he demanded, pointing his finger at the box sitting on the kitchen table, wrapped meticulously in silver and white paper with a bow sitting neatly on top. The obvious work of his mother.

He'd been about to leave for work when it came in the early evening, courtesy of the punctuality of the Forks Post Office, completely shifting his mood.

There was no return address, and initially Edward had been as curious as I was. That was, of course, until I plucked off the card attached to the top of the pretty foiled wedding paper and read it.

**Dearest Edward and Bella,**

**Congratulations on your wedding. We wish you every happiness.**

**Love Always, **

**Mom and Carlisle xoxo.**

It was met by silence, and as I read it and reread it repeatedly, immediately understanding the consequences of it, my heart sank; knowing exactly how Edward was going to react.

"Get rid of it," Edward said stiffly from behind me. He was fuming; even with my back to him I could sense it. Though, I'm not sure what other reaction I expected him to have.

I turned to him, almost recoiling from the sudden anger that was encompassing his face. A scowl was twisting his features, the air pushing sharply through his nose, before he severed his eyes from mine. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm already late," he muttered, before turning toward the closet to grab his parka.

"Edward. . ." I attempted to reason with him, making my tone as gentle as possible, to no avail, because this is when he snapped. "Well what the hell am I supposed to do with it?" I yelled back, immediately defensive, but beginning to feel defeated and anxious that we were on the verge of our very first fight.

"I told you, throw it out!" he snapped, yanking his arm through the sleave of his parka before slamming the closet door so loudly, Buddy, immediately cowering, made a hasty retreat outside, through his dog door.

Huffing in immediate irritation, I folded my arms over my chest, defiantly. "_You_ throw it out—and watch your tone!"

"Fine," he replied, darkly, before grabbing the box roughly by the top of the bow; which naturally snapped under the weight of it, crashing to the floor. And from the sounds of it, whatever was inside was glass of some kind. Crystal, perhaps—not that it was in one piece anymore.

I watched him, pretty certain he was about to explode, as he stood frozen for a moment, his hands on his hips, his jaw clenching and unclenching, while the vein in his forehead bulged so acutely I could almost see it pulsating.

He'd become so dominated by his anger and frustration, he was acting completely irrationally. Further proof he needed to unleash it, to find an outlet for it, or he was going to snap.

"Edward, this is ridiculous," I exclaimed, feeling my throat begin to choke, before I pleaded with him, "Talk to me—please."

"About what, Bella?" he demanded, raising his arms in question. "About how I need to '_let it go'_?"

I scoffed, sarcastically. "Because holding it in is _so_ much more productive, isn't it—and don't patronise me!"

He only gazed at me for a moment, his expression hardening and becoming completely unreadable. I honestly had no idea what he was thinking. "Think back, Bella, to when we were young," he began, his voice low, stiff, while I only shook my head slightly in confusion; wondering where he was going with this. "Did I ever _once_ tell you you needed to let your mother go?" He raised his eyebrows in further emphasis, his expression cold and completely devoid of emotion.

I faltered, blinking, feeling the emotion immediately build within me, before I softly cleared it from my throat. "Go to work. I don't want to look at you right now," I spoke quietly, unable to meet his eyes, ashamed of him for the first time in so long as the sting of his words began to ache in my chest.

I turned to head for the stairs when he caught me, and for a moment I fought him, shoving against him as the pain of his admission turned to anger.

"I'm _so _sorry, baby," he appealed to me, his voice sincere in its remorse, as he held firm to me.

"Don't '_baby_' me!" I spat, making another futile attempt to get around him and go upstairs, but he was steadfastly refusing to let me walk away.

"I'm not going to leave like this!" He was adamant, but then so was I, and as I continued to struggle against him, his regret was quickly turning to impatience. "Damn it, woman!"

"What?" I demanded, being forced to concede defeat, and becoming irritated that I had, as I shoved his hands away from me. "_What_?"

"I'm _sorry_," he repeated, his voice softer this time, turning almost husky, that I immediately knew he wasn't playing anymore.

He was serious, but I wasn't done.

"What's it going to take, Edward? Do you want to beat me up, like you did to Jake—would that make you feel better?" I accused him, and this time it was _my_ words that had hurt; my words that had caused damage.

"You know I'd never do that," he replied; he was injured but at the same time he was offended, and as his eyes held mine it was me who was immediately remorseful.

He wouldn't.

"I'm_ not_ the enemy," I stressed, my voice wavering, coming close the tears.

"I know," he murmured, taking a weary breath, before leaning in to rest his lips against my forehead. "Jesus, I'm a bastard."

"No you're not," I countered, my tone softening, before I gripped his shirt in my fists, nudging him back to connect my lips with his briefly. "Just talk to me, okay? Because it goes both ways."

He nodded, sheepishly, before rubbing his creased forehead with his fingertips. "Okay," he conceded, once more planting his lips to my brow, before he tipped my chin to fully merge them with mine. "Forgive me?" he mumbled against my earlobe.

"I forgive you," I replied, flashing him a tender smile, before smoothing down his shirt and carefully tucking it back behind his belt. "Forgive _me_?"

He broke into a warm, genuine smile, his tone dropping teasingly. "You might have to persuade me in the morning."

He left for work, a smile in place of his scowl, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders, but it wasn't the end of it. He was going to beat himself up over this, I knew it, but I also knew we were at a tipping point. I had to find a way to get him to release all this build-up of emotion or bear witness to him self-destruct.

And then came the catalyst.

It happened a couple of weeks after the invitations were sent. It was a Saturday morning, and a rare weekend that Edward and I had off together. We were, typically, spending it in bed, our bodies damp and tangled around each other, in no hurry to get up, when my phone rang.

As Edward groaned beside me, curling his arms tighter around my waist, I reached out lazily and grabbed it, checking the I.D. It was a private number. Normally I'd let my message bank pick it up, but for whatever reason, today I decided to answer it.

I was immediately met with an angry tirade.

With my brow knotting deeply in confusion, I sat myself upright in bed, holding the sheet to my chest, as I attempted to make sense of it.

It was Jazz, I eventually realised, and he was pissed off that Alice—a newly pregnant Alice—was so hurt by not receiving an invitation to our wedding she was going into a deep depression.

"Jazz. . ." I tried to interject, but to no avail.

"This is bullshit!" he continued to rant. "This pettiness has to end. Edward is just being as unreasonable as he's always been. He's a selfish prick who's never given a shit about anyone but himself!"

Oh, hell, no!

Instantly indignant, I sucked the air deep into my lungs to respond in kind, when Edward, who'd pulled himself up beside me by this point, and after no doubt hearing the tone and impression of Jazz's voice through the receiver, immediately grabbed the phone from my hand.

It wasn't pretty, and I hadn't seen Edward get this angry since he'd found out about Mike Newton. In fact, the absolute ferocity behind his voice began to seriously concern me.

"If you EVER ring Bella's phone and talk to her like that again, I will fucking end you, you piece of fucking shit. Do you hear me—I will END you!" Was the crescendo of the conversation, as Edward roared into the phone, so irately angry his entire frame had gone tense and rigid; his hands shaking uncontrollably as he held the phone to his ear, while the other dragged stiffly back through his hair.

And it seemed Jazz, rather naively, decided to call his bluff.

In the next moment, Edward propelled himself, completely naked, off the bed, before disappearing behind the closet door.

What was he going to do?

"Honey?" I called to him, my voice straining behind the building alarm that was beginning to converge on me.

Quickly grabbing the robe that was draped over the end of the bed, I wrapped it around myself, just as Edward burst through the closet door, loosely dressed in a pair of jeans and sweater, and carrying his shoes.

"Edward—stop! Talk to me!" I pleaded with him, as he proceeded through the door and into the hallway, his jaw set, his expression _lethal_.

In my haste to reach him, I stumbled out of bed, and after scrambling to my feet and racing down stairs—my heart lodged in my throat in absolute panic—he was already striding furiously along the driveway toward the garage.

I fell again, tripping down the second step of the front porch, and slamming to the ground on my stomach, as a spasm of pain tore through me. It knocked the wind out of me for a moment, and gasping and clutching my chest, I struggled to pull myself to my feet this time, before pushing myself forward after him.

I ran down the driveway, my bare feet thudding against the damp concrete, with tears blinding my vision, just as I caught the sound of his car door slamming shut, and the engine rev to life.

"Edward, NO!—please, _please_ stop!" I called after him, the pitch of my voice rising sharply in desperation.

He almost ran me over, slamming on the brakes at the last minute, before I yanked open the driver's side door.

"Baby, go back inside," he instructed me, the anger still deeply ingrained in his expression, though his eyes softened, appearing suddenly conflicted.

I grabbed his arm, attempting, ineffectually, to pull him out of the car. "Honey, please don't do this!" I sobbed, continuing to tug on him, but he was unmovable.

"Damn it, Bella!" he snapped, dragging his rigid hand back through the front of his hair, before slamming it against the steering wheel in a fit of obvious frustration. "I'm not going to allow them to continue to do this to us, baby—and I'm sure as hell not going to let them do it to _you_!" he insisted forcefully, resolutely, his eyes intense and burning as they locked steadfastly to mine, but he was faltering; becoming compromised the longer his gaze remained on me.

"Can we please just go back inside and talk about it?" I pleaded with him, my voice barely a whisper, as I all but held my breath, suspended in fear for him and how he still might react.

Fearful that I wouldn't be able to sway him. Fearful of this whole situation which had reverted this sweet, easy going man that I loved, into the impulsive, angry, scowling teenager he once was.

Sucking the air sharply through his nose, his hands a white knuckled grip around the steering wheel, he turned his head away from me, before his eyes slowly welled with tears.

Something snapped deep within me, and in the next moment I threw myself on him, my knees straddling his legs against the seat of the car, before cupping my hands to the sides of his face and covering his mouth with mine.

With his breath leaving him, and becoming almost choked, he relented and was suddenly fluid and accepting against me; allowing me to kiss him, and take him further and further down with me; to reverse his state of mind.

It was heated, rushed—and cramped, our breath quickly becoming hurried and strained as I continued to engulf him to me; feeling his skin igniting and responding to me, beneath my fingers, my lips, my inner thighs.

I was trembling. I was cold, but the adrenaline within me was building and expanding; supplanting my panic with a sudden painful desire, as the rate of my breath and circulation of blood continued to increase. It burned through me, heightening my senses and prickling along the surface of my skin as I lost myself in the impassioned flood of arousal.

And Edward was in a freefall right along with me. Rising and plummeting back down with me, over and over. His burning, shaking hands pulling the material of the robe away from my skin, before his lips connected and reconnected with every inch of me—that the confines of the car allowed.

He tried to speak to me, repeatedly, but it only became obscured in the rapid rate of his breath, and the pure, primal desire that was vibrating from deep within his chest. It caught in his throat only to hum and become subdued against my lips. My name uttered in a breathless, guttural, moan, and sounding almost anguished at its foundation, as it washed back against my face.

Edward, this passionate, emotional creature; the man who'd long ago taken my heart, before I was even aware I had given it away—before I knew what it meant to give it away. But given it to him, I had, amongst the shroud of distrust that had overshadowed my very existence, but with a willingness, regardless. A willingness I was never able to comprehend at just seventeen years old.

But it was a willingness I understood now with every particle of who I was, with every breath I took, and with every sense in my body. A willingness to connect with him, to lose myself in him, and to feel through him.

Just as I was now, as his fingers sank into my flesh, his palms running over and along every contour of my body, his lips—his mouth—tasting, kissing, consuming.

Rising slightly on my knees, I shifted above him, releasing my weight against him, as he struggled to rip open his jeans; bracing his torrid, sweaty brow against my naked shoulder to see what he was doing.

Readily, almost impatiently, I helped, releasing him from the confines of his jeans, before he delicately but eagerly eased me down over him.

That was all it took to send me over the edge; the burning hot length of him, filling me to the brim as it pounded in sync with his heart, with every pore of his body.

Gasping, audibly, for my breath, I broke into an eruption of quivers, as I attempted to steady my focus, and regain control of my body again. I had to, for him, but Edward had only sparked a small flame that was a growing forest fire within me, and soon I was riding that wave back up with him.

I had to be honest, on top, I was terrible. I was all over the place, as if I was incapable of doing two things at once. To move with him, while entangling my hands in the back of his hair, securing him to me, while becoming distracted by the intensity of his mouth.

And I didn't disappoint this time. We weren't in harmony, this was despite the fact that I was an exposed nerve of activity, erupting several times, but Edward, restricted to the limited space of the front seat of his car, was struggling.

He was uncomfortable, out of rhythm, and had almost literally turned to stone as the energy continued to multiply within him. Or maybe it was because such an enormous amount of energy was about to be unleashed from him, that it appeared to be compromising him.

His heart was hammering rapidly through him, his entire body quaking, as he repeatedly choked on his breath. He appeared in pain, but I knew he wasn't, as he all but fought with me; fought to immerse his body with mine; to reach that surrender with me—through me.

This is when he suddenly flipped me on my back so that I was completely beneath him, before he reclined the seat until it was all but horizontal. Then grabbing the back of my knee, he curled my leg further around him before he moved into me with more depth, more control.

He lasted maybe five seconds before he let it go. It completely conquered him and for one intense moment I thought he was going to suffer some kind of aneurysm. The veins running down his forehead looked like they were on the verge of rupturing, before this rustically deep, raw—completely agonized—sound burst from him, swallowing his breath, my name, and several expletives, along with it.

With his lungs heaving, he let his head hang forward; his eyes closed, his brow heavily ridged. He was braced above me on his hands, and his arms were all but buckling beneath him. He hadn't relaxed the weight of his chest against mine since before I was pregnant.

And Jazz had had the audacity to claim Edward was a "selfish prick". It was testament of how well he really knew him, because selfish was not a word you could use to describe Edward. He was the most selfless person I'd ever known.

With the sleeve of the robe that still hung dishevelled and loosely around me, I gently wiped the dripping sweat from his brow, before curling my arms around his shoulders and attempting to ease him against me.

"Come here," I insisted softly, when he was still reluctant, before he eventually relented.

Kissing my lips clumsily he rested his clothed chest with mine, all but collapsing against me, before releasing a shuddering breath. "Fucking hell. . ." he whispered, his voice clogging in his throat, sounding completely exhausted.

Smiling gently to myself, I turned my head, nestling my face against his neck and feeling his pulse reverberate against my lips, before pressing them tenderly to his skin.

There was silence for several minutes, as we both came down. I only listened as Edward's heart slowed, feeling his body still, and his breathing calm, as he lay almost motionless above me. I could feel it in him already; he was one-hundred-and-fifty percent more relaxed, as if he was finally able to disconnect himself.

Even if my lack of experience had threatened to sabotage it.

"I'm sorry, honey," I spoke after a moment, cringing slightly against him. "I suck on top, don't I?"

Not that I minded him throwing me on my back and taking control, or anything. I actually preferred to have that heavy, sultry body of his over mine.

Call me old fashioned.

He chuckled gently, half beneath his breath, as if he'd been just thinking the same thing. "You're slightly . . . uncoordinated," he admitted, continuing to laugh, the soft vibration of it rocking against me. "Don't ever change, Bella."

"Oh, God. . ." I mumbled, sheepishly—which only seemed to amuse Edward more, but I'd successfully distracted him from any plans to drive to Olympia and murder Jazz, so I was marking it off as a success.

After shimmying over to the front passenger side, and securing my robe further around my semi-damp body, Edward reversed back into the garage. I made him. God only knows what kind of show we'd put on for the neighbours, so my plan was to sneak the two of us through the back door to stave off any unnecessary embarrassment.

After helping Edward tuck _everything_ back in, attempting to put him back to a civilised order, he promptly picked me up, over his shoulder, and carried me inside.

"Seriously!?" I protested, only fractionally exasperated, as I gripped his sweater, hanging halfway down his back.

"Stop complaining, woman," he teased me, his tone alluding to the grin on his face that I couldn't see.

With a momentous sigh, I allowed myself to go almost limp against him from sheer relief. He was back—for good if he could only emancipate himself from his family, like I'd done with Renee. But it was never going to be that simple, because Renee's actions had never stemmed from a desire to protect me; no matter how misguided.

Edward's family were a lot more complicated, because while his emotions manifested as anger, it went a lot deeper. Alice had hurt him.

More than he'd ever admit.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts, good or bad, it's cool.**

**Til next time *kiss***


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Yeah, I changed my name. I'm fickle like that. Mr G, as you'd know if you're friends with me on Facebook, is my very handsome fluff-o-matic cat, not my husband; though, he's fluffy too LOL.**

**I've lost the plot . . .**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 24**

**Bella's POV**

During The first few months of college, Edward had gone to several parties, so I'd seen him drunk before.

I'd just never seen him _this_ drunk before.

"Honey, I'm home!" his hopelessly slurred voice called from the other side of the hotel door.

When I reefed it open, I found Edward literally being held up by Jake and Emmett, on either side of him, all three of them giggling like they'd just shared an inside joke.

"Heeeeeeeey, baby." Edward pulled his chin from his chest to flash me an intoxicated grin, before it immediately thudded back in place, and just as I was almost knocked over backwards by the stench of alcohol that was all but reeking from him.

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, my initial concern for him quickly turning to frustration. "You were supposed to take him out for a good time, not give him alcoholic poisoning!"

"Oh, he had a good time," Emmett added, to which the three of them immediately burst into another bout of snickering; though, I wasn't entirely sure Edward was lucid enough to fully understand what he was laughing at.

"Take him to the bedroom." I sighed, dropping my forehead to my palm, before stepping to the side to let them in.

Dragging him into the room, Jake and Emmett all but hauled Edward's semi-conscious body onto the bed, where he fell flat on his face, continuing to giggle. Then turning him roughly to his back, Emmett yanked off his shoes and socks before Jake threw the covers haphazardly over him.

"Wait—you guys going?" Edward asked, sounding slightly maniacal as he pulled himself semi upright on his elbows. "It's _early_!"

"Dude, it's 3 am, and tomorrow I'm on babysitting duty," Emmett explained, turning to wink at me. "See ya, Bella—man, those Aussies can drink. They're not even _tipsy_!" He was in disbelief.

I broke into a warm, semi grudging smile. "You didn't try and out-drink them, did you?"

"I couldn't keep up!" he confessed. "But they were the ones supplying most of the drinks to bludge." And with that said he started chuckling again.

"Oh god. . ." I muttered, shuddering at the very thought of how much alcohol Edward had consumed, before deciding I really didn't want to know. "Night, Emmett."

"Night, Bella. He's gonna have a sore head in the morning," he volunteered, as if it didn't already go without saying, smothering his laughter only partially beneath his breath this time, before heading back towards the door. "Night, Jake!" he called over his shoulder.

"Night, Emmett!" Jake hollered back, emerging from the room in the direction of the second bedroom, where he and Leah were staying.

"Belllllllllllaaaaaa?" Edward suddenly shouted, the drunken humour in his voice giving way to an edge of alarm. "Baby, can you come and make this bed stop spinning?"

I only groaned to myself, passing Jake on my way to the bedroom, who was still chuckling uncontrollably. "Night, Bells."

We were in Seattle for the weekend, for Edward's bachelor party, and my hen's night. Several of us had made the trip; Jake and Leah; Angela and Ben; Nummi, Rach, Mick and Chris—from Australia; and Uncle Billy and Sue. Not to mention Emmett and Rose, and the bunch of guys who worked with Edward when he was at Tri-Med Ambulance; who were all coming to the wedding.

Initially, Rose and Emmett had suggested everyone stay at their house, but there was no way their cosy, three bedroom home would fit so many people, so it was decided that we'd all stay in a hotel.

And that's how we got here.

Tonight had been Edward's party; and judging from the state of him, it had been a big one.

He was lying on his back with one arm draped over his eyes, the other clutching at the sheets; as if the bed actually was spinning.

I sat beside him, careful not to disturb him further, before wiping his hair back off his brow. "You okay, _spunkness_?" I teased him.

His grin pulled wide for a moment, before it inevitably fell and a soft moan passed through his lips. "I'm fucked . . ."

"By _me_," I whispered in his ear, playfully, and once more bringing his grin back to the forefront.

"Keep distracting me . . . baby," he mumbled, his words continuing to slur, but he was beginning to sound drowsier than he did drunk.

"Roll onto your stomach, for me," I urged him gently.

After all, I knew what happened when I was this drunk, and I had a sudden fear of Edward asphyxiating in his sleep.

He did, sluggishly, with my help, before he grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his cheek. "I love you, baby cakes. . ." he murmured, sounding seconds from losing consciousness, and this time it was me who broke into a smile.

I hadn't heard him call me "baby cakes" since we were seniors in high school.

"I love you too, _Eddy Weddy, honey bear_," I played along, calling him the silly pet names I once had when we were teenagers, and making him laugh openly this time.

"I wish I could go back. . ." he mumbled after a pause, taking a shuddering breath, his eyes closing, "and fix it."

My heart squeezed a little in my chest, before I placed my hand on his back, running my fingers up and down over his shirt. "You don't have to fix anything, honey," I promised him, tenderly.

"I was a fucking _train wreck_, baby." He took another wavering breath in, releasing it a moment later in a gush. "All of it was my fault."

Moving my hand to the back of his head, I entwined my fingers through his hair; it was growing longer again. He kept it short for work, but I had to admit, I missed the time when he'd had that mop of hair of his, sticking all over the place and held in place only by a set of rigid fingers

In effect, it was a reflection of the person he used to be; the rebellious and out of control boy, who was angry at the world.

But that wasn't who Edward was anymore. At least, I couldn't _allow_ him to be.

He fell silent; completely succumbing to the alcohol in his system, while the only noise coming from him after was the rustic sound of his snoring.

I curled myself beside him, and even in a state of near unconsciousness, he released the pillow to wrap his arms around my waist, tugging me closer to him.

With a deep-seated sigh, I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep. I was filling with resolve.

I had to put a stop to this; I couldn't watch Edward continue to be tortured by it a moment longer.

* * *

Not surprisingly, the next morning Edward looked like death. He was pale and pasty, while an ashen hue had taken over his entire complexion.

"Want me to get you anything, honey?" I asked, deliberately lowering the tone of my voice, after wrapping my arms around him from behind; where he sat on the edge of the bed cradling his head in his hands.

He uttered a whimpering groan, his fingers slowly massaging his brow. "Water. . ."

After sliding myself from the bed carefully, I returned a moment later, from the small kitchenette, carrying a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Delicately, I placed it in both his hands, and for a moment he didn't move. He simply sat, continuing to hold the bottle against his forehead, his eyes closed, his head remaining bowed.

"Maybe you should take a shower," I suggested softly, curling my legs beneath me, beside him on the bed, before resting my chin against his shoulder.

"Baby . . . please," he began after a moment, his voice hoarse and cracking. "I'm trying real hard not to throw up here."

"Okay," I relented, pressing my lips tenderly to his sallow tinged face. "Lay back down and get some more sleep."

His only response was another fractured sounding utterance, before I turned off the bedroom light and headed back into the kitchen.

"What did you guys get up to last night?" I asked Jake, grinning to myself as I pulled a couple of slices of bread from the loaf, and placing them in the toaster.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, looking almost as sick as Edward, his forehead resting on the surface.

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. . ." he mumbled, semi coherently as the sound of his voice bounced off the table top and became muffled.

"Only it was in Seattle, goobers," Leah said, teasing him, before slapping the back of his head playfully as she walked in the room.

He only flinched, while Leah laughed lightly, before standing beside me and nudging me in the ribs. "We're going to get you just as hammered tonight, Bells."

"I don't like your chances," I murmured in reply, bringing my coffee to my lips and smirking.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Leah, raised her eyebrows, taking it as an obvious challenge.

"I might be Australian, but I can't drink to save my life. I think I'll be sticking to Pepsi."

"Boring!" she protested, just as the entrance door swung opened and Emmett, with EJ on his shoulders, Rose, Nummi, Rach, Mick, Chris, Ang and Ben all filled into the room.

"Uncle Bludge?!" EJ sang out.

"Where's Edith?" Emmett quirked a brow in my direction.

"He's still in bed," I replied before Emmett immediately turned in the direction of the bedroom. "Emmett, don't bother him—he's not feeling terribly well!" I called after him, but I was wasting my breath; Emmett paid no attention.

"We'll get some brekky into him—he'll be right," Chris spoke up, before dropping his hand heavily down onto Jake's shoulder. "How _you_ doin', mate?"

"Yeah, great," was Jake's semi sarcastic reply.

"Get him outside. That cold will sober him up quick smart," Mick commented, his eyes widening in emphasis, and making Rose immediately smirk, as she rummaged in the fridge for the milk.

"You still sure about today?" she murmured in my ear, as she reached over the countertop to switch on the coffee machine.

"Yes," I answered, half beneath my breath.

"Where the hell is the coffee in this bloody drink?" Rach suddenly complained, sounding impatient, before removing the lid off her Grande Starbucks coffee cup, to peer into it. "It's all bloody foam!"

Angela chuckled, before Nummi grabbed the cup from Rach and took a sip.

"What a rip off!" she exclaimed a moment later, after evidently unable to find the coffee either. "Take it back and get another one."

This of course only increased the rate of Rose's amusement before Edward suddenly staggered into the room, bare chested and looking completely green this time.

He collapsed in the chair beside Jake, and groaned, with an element of irritation in his raspy voice.

"UNCLE BLUDGE PUUUUUUUUUKED," EJ announced in the high pitched tone of his age; causing Edward to openly wince, before once more supporting his crippled head in his splayed palms.

"Jeez, mate, you look pretty crook," Chris observed. "Got any Beroccas?" His question was directed at me.

"Why would I have any? I rarely drink," I replied, before dropping my hand to the middle of Edward's back, making small circles into his bare skin.

"Actually, I think I saw them for sale in Target," Nummi piped up.

"Baby . . . what the fuck is a Berocca?" Edward mumbled, from behind his hands.

"UNCLE BLUDGE SAID A BAD WORD!" EJ screeched out again, and this time I thought Edward was going to be propelled through the roof by the high octave behind it.

"It's a standard Australian hangover cure," I bent down and murmured against his unruly head of hair.

"Get me one!" he insisted.

"Wait, I think I brought a packet with me," Mick suddenly spoke up. "Hang on a sec and I'll get them." And with that said he left, heading for his and Nummi's hotel room across the hall.

"Why do you guys keep calling Edward a bludge?" Rach suddenly asked, curiously.

"You only call a real derro a bludger," Nummi added, to which this time Jake pulled his head up from the table, a look of bewilderment encompassing his expression.

While Edward, from his position of infirmity, only shot his breath through his nose in an audible grin.

"It's a long story," Rose answered Rach's question, temporarily distracted from her obvious exasperation at EJ. "Wait, what . . . ?" She turned to me this time, her expression becoming even more clueless than Jake's.

Than every non-Australian in the room.

I laughed lightly, turning to Nummi and Rach. "Will you guys stop talking—you're confusing the locals."

Mick returned with the orange and green vial in his hands, before he proceeded to pour a large glass of water for Edward, dropping two of the orange fizzy tablets into it.

"Get that into ya, mate. You'll be right as rain in a moment," he guaranteed, placing the glass in front of Edward, before turning to make another one for Jake.

Apprehensively, Edward dragged it closer to him, taking a hesitant sip.

"Does this really work?" he turned his bloodshot eyes to mine, his expression dubious.

Flashing him a quick, affectionate grin, I nodded, before dropping my hand to his naked shoulder, squeezing.

"You know what I could use right about now?" Chris announced. "A four and Twenty."

Of course, this was instantly met by the sound of crickets chirping.

"Oh, God, yes!" I immediately agreed. "I haven't had one in years."

"A_ what_?" I heard Ang whisper tactfully to Leah, who only shook her head, her expression blank.

"It's a meat pie," Edward answered, smirking slightly, after swallowing a mouthful of the orange liquid.

"What's in this stuff, anyway," Emmett muttered to himself, grabbing the vial Mick had left on the counter and inspecting it.

"YAY! BARNEY THE DINOSAUR!" EJ suddenly shrieked, as he bounced on the sofa in front of the archaic looking television.

"Okay, I think we'd better get going before I go cross eyed," Rose announced, turning to Emmett, her finger outstretched. "_Don't_ give him too much sugar."

"All right, meet you downstairs in ten?" I asked, placing my empty coffee mug in the sink. "By the way, where's Uncle Billy and Sue?"

"They went to some restaurant for breakfast," Leah answered, rolling her eyes, before turning in the direction of her and Jake's room.

The plan for the day was exploring Seattle, before we got ready for my hen's night, while the boys recovered from their night out. Leah, Ang, Nummi and Rach were going on ahead; Rose and I just had to make a small detour first.

To Olympia.

* * *

"You know, Bella, I'm pretty good at scaring Alice into compliance, and Jazz wouldn't dare mess with me," Rose subtly reminded me, after turning onto Interstate five out of Seattle, before glancing at me; her expression serious this time. "You_ don't_ have to do this."

She was offering me an out, an out I really would have preferred to take her up on, but I couldn't.

"I do," I countered, with a short sigh, "and considering I'm not nearly as angry at her as I should be, it's better that it's me and not Edward."

"Okay, well I agree with you there," she murmured, and left it at that.

It took us just under an hour to drive to Olympia, something that was spent for the majority in silence, and when we were roughly ten minutes from Alice's house, Rose called her.

"I'm a few miles away and I have Bella with me," she quickly explained. "She wants to talk to you, and for god's sake, keep that idiot brother of mine away, because if Edward catches wind that Jazz went and said something even remotely stupid to Bella again, _no one_ will be able to stop him from driving down here to murder him next time. You understand?" After a pause, where I faintly heard Alice's voice in reply, Rose hung up before turning to me. "Okay, she's expecting us."

I only nodded, taking a deep breath to steel myself, mentally preparing what I needed to say.

"A word of warning, though," Rose added, after a few minutes of continued silence, a small smirk inching across her lips. "She's probably going to drug us with her _herbal tea_."

I groaned, recalling that weird trippy stuff she'd given me in the past, with not so fond memories. "Try being drugged and then having to sit through Jazz feeling her up at the breakfast table. Even my dog was traumatised!"

"Oh, God—stop!" she protested, grimacing in only semi-feigned repulsion, as I chuckled lightly to myself.

"Is it even safe to drink while she's pregnant?" I enquired, my voice dropping to a whisper at the sudden idea of it.

Rose scoffed, partially rolling her eyes. "I can't imagine it'd be harmful; though, I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised when she gives birth to '_Bill and Ted'_ in a couple of months."

"I'm sorry . . . ?" I replied, not quite catching her meaning.

"Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Have you seen that movie? It's about two braindead teenagers who are clearly high the entire time." She waved her hand dismissively, before turning left onto 93rd Avenue.

"You mean . . . she's having two . . .?" I concluded, my voice dropping, my heart once again reminding me of the pain it still harboured.

Two: the same number I'd lost. . .

"Yeah, she's having twins. . ." She glanced at me, her brow knotting in evident sympathy, before asking, "You didn't know?"

"No, well, when Jazz screamed down the phone at me about his '_babies_' I just assumed he was referring to the baby _as well_ as _Alice_. . ." I explained.

"Yeah, there's two, but don't worry, I'm sure they'll only have the combined intellect of one." She glanced at me, her smirk returning, and I broke immediately into a light grin.

Still, I couldn't even fathom the idea of having two babies at once. I'd be lucky if I ever had one.

Alice was waiting for us on the front porch of the farmhouse she lived with Jazz and their ten thousand Marijuana plants; approaching me hesitantly when I exited the car.

"Hey, Bella," she greeted me, her voice small, her expression clearly flooded with uncertainty.

"Hi, Alice," I said simply. There was no warmth or affection in my tone, but at the same time, there was no hostility.

There was a moment of silence, when my eyes were inadvertently drawn to Alice's rounded, protruding belly; the same belly she appeared to be subconsciously rubbing.

"How many weeks?" I asked.

"Twenty-two," she mumbled in answer, her eyes dropping to the ground.

"Okay, this is awkward enough, let alone doing it in the rain," Rose said abruptly, grabbing Alice and kissing her cheek quickly, before ushering all three of us inside.

As Rose predicted, as soon as we were seated at the kitchen table, Alice immediately put on a pot of tea, before placing three steaming mugs of it before us a couple of minutes later.

I inhaled it in, quickly identifying it as the same vile tasting—but no less mellowing—tea she'd given me the last time I'd visited.

"Where's Jazz?" Rose asked, bringing the mug to her lips in what looked like a show of pretence, at the very least, as a small furtive smile inched on my lips.

"Oh—I sent him to town," Alice replied, before her eyes turned to mine, beseeching this time. "Bella, I'm _so_ sorry about him ringing you. He was _way_ out of line."

I half shrugged, chewing on the inside of my lips, thoughtfully for a moment.

It was the same Alice as she'd always been. There was nothing different about her, and I wondered what I expected to see.

The Bell Witch?

"Surely he would have been aware how Edward was likely to react, though?" Rose put to her, her brows rising.

"He's just been a bit . . ._ overprotective_ ever since. . ." Her eyes indicated briefly to her stomach, before back to mine; apologetically this time. And I wasn't sure if her remorse was because of Jazz's behaviour, or if she was relaying some silent apology for her pregnancy in lieu of what not long ago had happened to mine. "I honestly expected Edward to come and kill him."

"He very nearly did," I confessed, quietly.

"How-how'd you stop him?" she asked me, her expression becoming pained.

"I had to throw myself in front of his car," I answered, candidly, and her forehead knotted with a troubled kind of empathy.

"Bella. . ." she began when I immediately interjected.

"Alice, you have to stop!" I spoke insistently, with conviction. "This campaign you have going is not only pushing him further away, but it's pushing him over the edge."

She nodded, this time with tears welling in her eyes. "I know," her voice broke to a whisper, "but . . . but I'm just so desperate to make everything right. I want my children to know their uncle, and I want my . . . brother back."

"All you're doing is making things worse," I explained, my tone edging with growing frustration. "You _know _Edward. You know you _can't_ force him."

She nodded, hastily this time, as if the quickened movement would also prevent her tears from overflowing. "It's the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life, and I should never have gone along with it, because-because my mother _never _dealt with Edward the right way."

Her eyes were holding mine, imploringly, and this time I was curious.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She took an inevitable breath, and then another, her expression becoming more and more anguished, before she reluctantly began, "After Dad died, Edward took it the hardest. I mean, we were all pretty grief-stricken, but Edward . . . he never cried. He kept it all in, and he took care of Mom. She fell apart—literally. She just stopped living, and Edward looked after her. I remember relatives and friends saying she needed to get Edward into therapy, because everyone could see how much it was taking out of him—not grieving for Dad as well as taking so much on board with Mom."

I suddenly scoffed, caustically, interrupting her, "And yet Jazz accused him of being a '_selfish prick'_" I quoted with my fingers.

She huffed, her face darkening for a moment, before she shook her head to herself. "I know. . ." she acknowledged, sounding less than impressed, before she continued, "Anyway, Edward used to have these violent night terrors, and he suddenly became terrified of heights," she paused, glancing at me in emphasis, and I nodded, feeling my forehead crease deeply. I'd found out first hand just how much Edward feared heights_ that_ night in Sydney. "When he finally snapped it was when I was sick. You could see it in his eyes, he wanted to commit murder, but Mom just became frustrated at him. After he beat up Jacob at school, Mom took him to the therapist the school counsellor had set up, and she basically told her Edward was sociopathic."

Beside me, Rose snorted, and Alice nodded in vehement agreement, before her eyes turned back to mine.

"Afterward, Mom started pushing him away. I don't know—it was as if she couldn't bear to have him so close. He's exactly like Dad—exactly. I think Mom just couldn't handle it. So every time Edward would be _Edward_, she'd snap at him, and get frustrated. Deep down, I knew she just feared for him so much that she refused to deal with how he was. She always made things worse. She always made _him_ worse. When Edward met you, Bella, he was thrown_ way_ out into left field. We could all see it, but Mom refused. She wouldn't tolerate his behaviour at all. In fact, she was actually pretty _intolerant_ of him, and she and Edward have never been the same since."

Rose started chuckling, dryly. "So really, Esme was just being the proverbial '_monster in law_'. Refusing to be replaced in her precious son's life by another woman."

"I knew it," I muttered, only partially beneath my breath.

Alice snorted, shrugging meekly. "Basically. . . She saw the kind of passion Edward had for Bella, and she considered Bella to be a threat to him."

"I'm right here!" I snapped in instant irritation.

"Sorry," Alice quickly amended.

"So, let me get this straight," I gauged her, my brow arching cynically. "Knowing how your mother always got it wrong with Edward, you _still _went along with her scheme to break us up?"

"Can I explain it all?" she asked in a feeble voice.

"Oh, you _remember_ now?" I retorted, sarcastically.

"I know. . ." she conceded, having the courtesy to appear embarrassed. "That was such a shitty thing to say to you, but I knew you weren't going to tolerate any kind of excuse."

"But simply saying 'I don't remember why' after just explaining that you'd separated her and Edward for six years was pretty weak, Alice," Rose admonished.

"I know," Alice repeated, her voice dropping further. "It was."

"I'm not sure if anything you say will change anything, Alice," I cautioned her.

She nodded, her gaze dropping to her mug of _Cannabis_ tea, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, before her eyes once again rose to hold mine. "I'd still like to."

With a short sigh, I severed her hopeful gaze and begrudgingly relented, "Go ahead."

"Okay, well you know it all started after the first time you got pregnant," she paused long enough for me to nod. "Bella_ . . ." _she shook her head to herself, hesitating, "when Edward disappeared, I have _never_ been so scared in my entire life—not even when he crashed his car and almost killed himself in junior year. And not even after . . . Jazz got cancer," she paused again, holding my gaze sedately, as if somehow impressing on me the seriousness of her admission, but it only annoyed me.

"You think I wasn't scared?" I challenged her. "Especially after how horrible I was to him—after everything I'd said. I'd treated him like he'd got me pregnant through rape!"

"I know," she agreed, softly, seemingly to placate me. "You were a large part of the reason. I saw how much it was shredding you too. I honestly thought he was dead—I _felt_ nothing, and when he came back I was so angry at him. Angry that he'd put me through that—for two weeks. So, when Mom told me we had to do something to make Edward really sit up and listen, I agreed with her. I thought if I could make him believe you'd left him, he would finally come to his senses. He'd finally learn to control his emotions."

"Only _I _wasn't included in your plan, so you made me believe Edward had left me too," I reminded her, my tone accusing, as my heart contracted at the reminder of what she'd done to me that horrible day in the gazebo at Port Angeles.

"You would have never gone along with it." Was her attempt to justify it—albeit delicately. "You always caved when it came to Edward, Bella, and I saw how much his erratic behaviour affected you as well."

I shook my head, frustrated and not even close to being convinced. "Alice, if you'd let it go on for a few months, I would have understood—I would have been angry, but I still would have understood your reasoning. I _knew_ how upset at him you were, but you pulled off this _huge_ deception, and then you allowed it to go on for _six years_!"

Alice shook her head as well, as if in contradiction, appearing anxious again. "Please believe me, Bella, that I _never _intended for it to go on for so long. Mom wanted you separated for good. She believed you and Edward were no good for one another, but I refused to go along with that. I knew Edward would never forgive me, if I did."

"So _why_?" I demanded, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

She faltered, appearing to become absorbed in her thoughts again, before scoffing to herself, smiling without humour. "Edward did _everything_ to try and get in touch with you. He tried blackmailing me, he threatened to never speak to me again, but I refused to give in, because I could see it working. His focus shifted and he was concentrating on school. He was topping the state in all his exams. It took him awhile, but he really started to settle down."

This is when Rose jumped in. "Didn't you think that after a year, when you told him the truth, that he'd go back to being exactly the same? I mean, you _just_ finished telling us how your mother got him all wrong, and there you were doing the same thing."

It was clear Rose wasn't buying it, either, and it was reassuring in a sense, because I _sure as hell_ wasn't.

Alice nodded, regrettably. "I thought . . ." she let it go, obviously seeing the futility in it now. "Hindsight's twenty-twenty, I guess."

Bloody hell, Alice!" I burst, impatiently. "Is that it? Or are you going to tell me _why_ you never told him the truth after a year?"

She jumped, and when she turned back to me, her eyes were once more betraying her emotions. "Jazz got sick, and I left school to be with him, and . . . I—it sounds terrible, but I forgot all about you and Edward."

I huffed to myself, by the bitter irony of it, before shaking my head slowly.

"Oh, Jesus. . ." Rose suddenly muttered, sounding somewhat disgusted, as she heavily massaged her forehead. "What a mess."

Alice only broke into a conceding smile, before Rose continued.

"Never mind that the whole premise for it is pure arrogance," she spoke candidly, before Alice's eyebrows immediately shot up, hurt. "I mean, I get that you love Edward and you only wanted to protect him, but you just told us this long story about how you interfered in your brother's life as if you had every right to do so. '_I was only going to do it for a year',_" Rose quoted her quickly before she had a chance to protest. "But what you fail to realise, Alice, was you didn't have the right to do it for _five minutes_."

For a moment, Alice was speechless, as if finally having that revelation. Her mouth fell open, her brow creasing with just as much pain as it did remorse. "I-I never thought about it like that. . ." she confessed in a shame-filled whisper. "Oh, God. . ." And with that said, she burst into tears.

Rose turned to me, shaking her head a fraction, half rolling her eyes; I only shrugged, helplessly.

It was pointless.

"Oh my God, you're right!" Alice blabbered on, hastily and futilely wiping her tear-streaked face as more and more spilled over. "I had _no_ right. . ."

"Alice," Rose prompted, the impatience evident in her tone, after five minutes passed without any indication that the sobs were coming to an end. "_Alice_!"

I only sat, cynically, grasping my psycho-active tea without any intention of drinking it, as I waited for her to continue.

Six years of my life wasted because Alice thought she could wilfully force Edward to change. She no more understood her brother than his mother did.

I wasn't angry—I wasn't anything. I was impassive, suddenly wondering what the hell I was even doing here. I didn't need to hear all this. All I cared about was making sure Alice left Edward alone, so he could get on with his life.

"I'm so sorry, Bella!" Alice continued to wail, to the point that I was beginning to feel the urge to thud my forehead down onto the table—exactly like Jake had done this morning.

Instead, I rubbed at it laboriously with my fingers.

"Alice—for God's sake. Get a grip!" Rose suddenly snapped, slapping her palm to the table so sharply, it made both Alice and me jump. "Stop being so damn self-absorbed!"

"You're-you're right," Alice stammered, timidly, using the hem of her shirt to dry her eyes, and exposing her pregnant stomach for a moment.

It was huge!

"So, _then_ what?" Rose arched a demanding eyebrow. "Jazz got sick and you just thought, '_well screw Bella and Edward, they can figure it out themselves'_?"

"No! Of course not!" Alice sniffed back her emotion, clearly offended. "Once he was okay, it hit me again. I felt so terrible over it I was close to being in a panic. Remember when we went to Forks for the opening of Bella's restaurant?" Her question was directed at Rose, while I only huffed my breath, feeling like a bloody fifth wheel in the story of my own life.

"So, you planned on telling her then, did you?" Rose asked, clearly unconvinced, considering she'd done nothing of the kind.

"Yes, I _did_," Alice stressed, "but. . ."

"_But_?" Rose prompted her; her impatience once again stretching thin.

"But Bella—,"

This is when I cracked.

"I'm right HERE, Alice! Stop speaking about me as if I'M NOT!"

"I'm sorry," she hastily corrected, her voice wavering, her head snapping from Rose to me, clearly flustered. "I saw what Newton had done to you," she continued in explanation, "and I knew if I told Edward, and he saw you—he saw for himself what damage Newton had caused, he'd _lose_ it. He'd _kill_ Newton, and then . . . he'd kill me," she concluded in a small voice, her eyes dropping to her mug of tea.

I only watched her for a moment, trying to decide if I had an ounce of pity for her, somewhere within me. "Newton was in jail," I stated, my tone devoid of emotion. "Edward couldn't have done _anything _to him. So, what you were really worried about was what he'd do to _you."_

She rose her head, staring at me for a moment, her expression beseeching at first, before it slowly smoothed out in acceptance.

"Yes," she finally confessed, nodding. "I knew then how gravely wrong I'd been, and I could have made it right that day, but instead, I selfishly stuck my head in the sand and hoped it would all right itself."

"So, what was it, Alice?" Rose asked with an inevitable sigh. "What made you finally come clean?"

"I was a coward to the very end," she admitted, dropping her forehead to her hand and shaking her head. "I knew I'd probably never have the courage to tell the two of you, so I invited you both to my wedding. I figured Edward would be less likely to kill me at my own wedding. . ."

Rose and I suddenly made the same cynical, dry sounding utterance, simultaneously.

Turning to me, Rose smirked, in full ironic disbelief, before she again faced Alice. "Oh, come on, Alice. He might only be my brother in law, but I've known that boy since freshman year in high school. He wouldn't have had a single reservation about getting up on stage at your wedding and telling both you and your mother exactly what he felt about you."

And despite myself, I chuckled lightly, because I could see it in my mind; I could _hear _it. It wouldn't have been pretty.

"I guess I was in denial," Alice mumbled, half shrugging her shoulder.

"But you didn't let it get that far, Alice," I reminded her. "You told me a week before."

She nodded, sighing heavily. "Remember that snow storm, and how cold it was—and how we had to sleep together just to stay warm?" I nodded. "That night . . . you cried out to him in your sleep," she admitted, her voice dropping to practically a whisper, as if emphasising the gravity of it, "and the pain in your voice. . ."

I cleared my throat, quickly severing her gaze, suddenly feeling exposed. I was familiar with that pain. In fact, I doubted I'd ever forget it.

There was silence—for the longest time. No one spoke, or looked at each other, for that matter, before I reluctantly broke it.

"Alice . . . you have to accept the fact that Edward may _never _forgive you," I stressed to her seriously, with an edge of sympathy in my tone.

She nodded, despondent—defeated. In full acceptance for possibly the first time.

"I can't make him do anything—and I won't," I avowed, "but I can't watch him self-destruct over it anymore." It was me who was pleading with her, this time. But I had to, because Edward was too important for me not to.

"Okay," she whispered, her eyes lowering.

"Things are going to be really stressful for me and Edward soon," I explained, my tone softening behind the significance of it, that Alice once again, sedately, met my gaze. "I'm happy for you—for your pregnancy, I really am, but it's not going to be as easy for me. I have to put myself through IVF—and I don't want to have to be dealing with that on top of worrying about Edward at the same time."

She nodded further, in understanding, as guilt began to dominate her expression.

"Bella?" she asked, apprehensively. I only raised my brows in question, before she continued, "Even if he can't forgive me," her voice softly broke, "do you think he will be able to accept my apology . . . ?"

"He might," I speculated, not feeling as positive as my tone suggested, "but you have to understand, Alice. It wasn't just a lie you told him. You betrayed him so deeply . . . it broke his heart."

* * *

**A/N: leave me some love, or rabid hostile objections, tis all good. **  
**MWAH, see you soon xoxox**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Writing is a funny thing. I was completely blocked for 4 weeks, and then tonight, I write 4000+ words straight off the bat. Usually, I get Edward, but sometimes I am just not feeling him. Like most men, I guess...  
Anywho, it's completely cheesy, but there you have it.  
Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 25**

**Edward's POV**

Weddings . . . Jesus. . .

I fucked mine up in the first five minutes.

I kissed Bella first.

I know you're supposed to kiss the bride last, after the vows, the rings, the "I do's", and all that, but I couldn't help it.

When she walked down the aisle I almost went through the fucking floor, and this was on top of suddenly needing to get serious control of my emotions.

I was close to turning into a sobbing fucking baby, when it hit me, all at once, that this beautiful fucking woman was mine ,and I loved her more than words could possibly convey.

Beautiful . . . it didn't cut it. She was so much more. With that white dress—that exposed just enough of the top part of her breasts while still remaining elegant—her hair pulled up, revealing that long neck of hers, and those cheekbones; those lips. . .

Then her father gave her to me, and she looked up at me, flashing me this smile I didn't often see from her. It was vulnerable—raw and full of warmth, that impulsively, on auto pilot—hell, I don't know—I cupped my hands to her face and kissed her.

Releasing her lips, I was about to take them again with mine, when she started chuckling, softly beneath her breath.

"Edward. . ." she spoke gently, a look of amusement on her face, before reaching up to wipe her lipstick from my mouth.

For a moment I was stonewalled, before I suddenly snapped out of it, clearing my throat awkwardly and turning to the pastor.

He was a short, pot-bellied, balding little guy, dressed in what looked like a black graduation gown, with a white and gold sash hanging around his shoulders that practically hit the floor.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my eyes catching the crosses on the bottom of the sash, before they turned to one of the many stained glass windows, where Michael pointed his sword at me.

The pastor laughed shortly, making jokes about how much we'd skipped over, before pointedly asking me and Bella if we were ready.

When I nodded he began.

The pastor—Pastor Allen—I suddenly recalled, began reciting from the bible. Something about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, fellowship . . . to witness the marriage of me and Bella. . .

Hell, I was too distracted by her to keep up, and not twenty seconds into it, I glanced down to her; her eyes caught mine without fully turning her head.

"You're beautiful," I murmured.

"Shhhh. . ." she replied in a whisper, her smile subtly broadening. "Cheeseball."

I only grinned to myself, before turning back to the pastor. Only Bella would call me a cheeseball at our wedding, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Who presents this woman in matrimony?" the pastor asked, his eyes looking past me.

"I do," the colonel spoke from behind me, and briefly turning to him, he reached out and shook my hand.

He hugged me then, tightly, and with an unmistakable message behind it. "Ever hurt my daughter and you die."

I didn't doubt it.

I only nodded, conceding, and throwing me a semi-begrudging smile, Charlie sat down beside Bella's uncle.

The pastor continued, "First, I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now."

And he actually looked throughout the congregation as if he really expected someone to speak up.

I half expected to see my fucking mother.

He then turned to me and Bella, reciting some longwinded speech that I struggled to keep up with. Basically he asked us if we were both certain we wanted to go through with it, while reminding us that God could read our minds so not to bullshit.

Next he turned to me, clearing his throat loudly. "Edward Anthony Cullen, will you take Isabella Marie Swan to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"Yes," I answered, just as Bella gently nudged me in the ribs. "I will!"

Turning to Bella, he repeated the vow, and after Bella answered—without fucking it up—he started to pray. Again, I only caught a fraction of it.

"God our Father, from the beginning you have blessed creation with abundant life.  
Pour out your blessings upon Edward and Isabella . . . mutual love and companionship . . . commitment to each other . . . Lord Jesus Christ . . . Holy Spirit . . . God . . . forever . . . Amen."

"Amen," Bella echoed softly from beside me, to which I hastily blurted it; though, I'm sure Michael, where ever he was, snorted sarcastically to himself—considering how much _fornication_ I'd committed with Bella, while the winged bastard was forced to watch.

Bella turned to me, taking my hands, grinning knowingly up at me, with an edge of amusement, that I found myself broadly mirroring her expression.

"Edward, will you repeat after me," the pastor instructed. "'_I Edward Anthony Cullen take you Isabella Marie Swan to be my wife_'."

"I Edward Anthony Cullen take you, Bella-_Isabella_"—fuck, I could just feel her father's scowling eyes boring into the back of me, while I felt my ears catch fire, but Bella's smile only widened—"Marie Swan to be my wife."

"'_To have and to hold from this day forward'_."

"To have and to hold from this day forward," I repeated.

"'_For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish til death do us part'_."

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer . . ." I paused in growing panic, before Bella squeezed my hand. But—fuck—my mind had gone completely blank! "Erm . . ." I turned back to the pastor, apologetically, "can you repeat that last half?" I mumbled, but he only smiled at me in understanding.

"'_In sickness and in death, to love and to cherish till death do us part'_," he reminded me patiently.

"In sickness and in death, to love and to cherish till death do us part."

"_In the presence of God, I make this vow_."

"In the presence of God, I make this vow." I let go of my breath in fucking relief, making Bella's grin widen again, gentler this time; as if she understood.

I wondered how she could be so cool when I was breaking into a fucking sweat!

Bella recited her vows, again without forgetting any of it, and we were up to the rings.

The rings that were bouncing all over the stone floor of the church, echoing loudly, as Emmett ran in pursuit of our fucking ring bearer, EJ.

"Dude—sorry," he muttered, shoving Bella's ring in my hand a few moments later.

With a long sigh, I took Bella's left hand, and slipped the ring on her third finger, pausing half way.

"Edward, repeat after me," the pastor began.

_Don't fuck it up, don't fuck it up_. . . I repeatedly commanded myself beneath my breath.

"'_Bella, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage'_."

"Baby, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage."

Bella's smile suddenly became toothy, her breath softly shooting through her nose, as realization suddenly hit me.

Fuck me sideways. . .

Closing my eyes, I groaned, only partially under my breath, before asking the pastor if I could start over, rigidly rubbing my brow with my fingers.

Chuckling, he repeated, "_Bella, I give this ring as a sign of our marriage_."

"Bella, I give this ring as a sign of our marriage," I amended, smiling warmly at her—being such a good sport about how I was abjectly fucking everything up.

"'_With my body I honor you. All that I am I give to you."_

"With my body I honor you,"—I smirked lightly to myself. We'd be doing a lot of '_honoring_'—"All that I am I give to you."

"'_And all that I have I share with you, within the love of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit'_"

"And all that I have I share with you, within the love of God, Father, Son, and . . . erm . . . uncle?"

Fuck me. . .

Bella was fighting the obvious urge to laugh this time, while I only flashed her my most fucking convincing remorseful smile.

"I'm so sorry," I mouthed, but Bella only shook her head lightly, dismissing it.

"'_Holy Spirit'_," the pastor corrected.

"Holy Spirit," I echoed, clearing my throat, fucking sheepishly, before placing the ring fully on Bella's finger.

Bella naturally, didn't screw up her vows, but maybe because she'd actually paid attention during the rehearsal. I'd been fucking half drunk, due to the fact that Chris and Mick had got at least ten beers into me that afternoon. I wasn't sure; I lost count after seven.

I looked back up at Michael; he continued to glare down at me with blatant condemnation, his sword pointed directly at my balls, as if the fucker was threatening me with castration if I ever broke my vows.

Gulping, I turned back to Bella. Her eyes had followed in the direction I'd been looking, and when they again met mine, she smiled, appearing to know what I'd just been thinking.

With her smile turning inward, she shook her head with the slightest movement. She knew me too well, and she believed in me, but then she was the only one who ever had. . .

Bella and I had also written our own vows, and the pastor instructed us to read them.

Mine were completely sappy. I told her how much I loved her, and how I'd make sure she was always aware of it. That I'd always be there for her, to make her smile, and feel safe; to make her feel beautiful.

Jesus, it really was awkward reading out something this personal and intimate in front of an entire group of people—half who—let's be honest—probably didn't like me very much. But I kept my focus on Bella, at the way she smiled, at the way her face began to crumble the further I read.

I made her cry; helping Rach to dry her tears when I was finished, before Bella fumbled with a little piece of folded paper in her hands.

She didn't need to read out a long list of promises to me, like I had; she said it all in a few words—completely fucking astounding me.

"Darkness is simply the absence of light," she began, her voice catching before she cleared it, "but I believe darkness is the absence of love. And for me . . . darkness is the absence of _you_."

If we were supposed to kiss next, I wasn't entirely sure, but I did anyway. It was more intimate than the vows I'd just read out, but I didn't care this time. She was my wife, and for the first time in almost seven years I felt completely whole. As if the fragmented pieces of me—from all the fucking lies and bullshit—had finally been restored.

I was guessing I had jumped ahead by a fraction, because I vaguely heard the pastor reading out some prayer or blessing as I kissed Bella, and by the time I released her again, the ceremony was over.

Taking Bella's hand I walked her back down the aisle, with Angela in front of us taking photos, and the moment we were outside—after we were poured with confetti—we were practically ambushed by people wanting to congratulate us.

Bella's father once again shook my hand, but this time he actually referred to me as "son". I only stared at him—with no fucking idea how to respond—and it seemed to surprise Bella as well. So much that she immediately turned to gaze at him, her expression straightening out in almost disbelief, before becoming flooded with emotion.

I was guessing I'd finally won over "The General".

Bella was eventually pulled from me as I continued to be hugged and kissed, and slapped over the back, by friends and distant family members.

Some who asked where my mother and Carlisle were.

Luckily, Emmett had the foresight to intervene and pull me away before I was forced to answer, but I was too distracted to let my focus slip to my mother. I needed to get my wife alone for a moment.

After a further forty minutes of well wishes and another half hour of photos in the church grounds, I finally got Bella to myself; though I had to literally pull her away, and drag her into the car. To the 1950 vintage Bentley that was waiting to take us to the Jardin du Soleil Lavender Farm in Seqium for the photos, before back home to the reception.

Bella had booked it, so it meant an hour's car ride, and right at that moment I was fucking glad for it.

I was wired and restless; I needed some down time, with her. Against her naked skin was preferable, but at that moment I'd settle for her clothed.

She really did look fucking beautiful in that dress, but even as I pulled her against me, my face—my nose and lips, found her half concealed breasts.

Taking a breath, I hummed it against her skin, until it became a groan. The last week had turned me into a wreck, and I was relieved—if nothing else—that I'd got through it, to this point in time.

Fucking finally.

Bella immediately relaxed, curving into me slightly, before her hand came to rest against the back of my head. She was quiet, for the longest time, her fingers running absently through my hair, while I all but fell asleep against her cleavage.

"I didn't sleep a wink last night," she finally confessed, her voice soft, but light, as if she was amused by the fact that she hadn't.

"Me either," I mumbled, rising my head to connect my lips to the side of her neck. This perfume she was wearing was unfamiliar to me, but it was fucking alluring.

Her fist closed around my hair, anchoring me to her. "I had this crazy fear you were going to stand me up."

I scoffed, before glancing up to meet her eyes. She wasn't serious. "Why would I do that?" I asked her regardless.

She smiled, before half shrugging to herself. "It was stupid. . ."

"Mmm-hmm," I murmured, returning to her neck and naked shoulders. "You're stuck with me now."

"You know what I was thinking about?" she asked, her hand gliding to the back of my neck, continuing before I could react. "The first day we met. . . How the hell did we get here . . . ?" she mused.

Straightening up, I leaned against the seat beside her, my head falling back, before I rolled it lazily to look at her. "I honest to God have no fucking idea. . ." I admitted, chuckling through my nose.

She only smiled at me for a moment, content and affectionate, and half to herself—as if she was reflecting—before she reached up and cupped her palm to my cheek.

Without a word, I mirrored her, my hand guiding her face to mine. I kissed her, and then again, before planting my lips to her brow and resting them there, closing my eyes.

"Do we have to go to the reception . . .?" I eventually uttered.

"Yes," she murmured, inevitably, sounding in empathy with me, and when I opened my eyes again, she was smiling to herself.

I only groaned, and her grin broadened.

"What?" I prompted her, curiously.

"You . . . during the wedding. I was trying _so hard_ not to laugh." But this time she did, softly, before burying her face into my neck and muffling it against my skin.

I groaned again, good-naturedly; resting my chin on top of her head. "Sure your father didn't slip the pastor a couple of bucks to go hard on me?"

She nudged me, before lifting her head to meet my eyes; her expression knowing and slightly cynical. "No. . ."

"It could've been my mother. . ." I muttered. I intended it to be a joke, only my voice instinctively hardened; making Bella's brow immediately knot.

"Edward. . ."

"Okay, okay. . ." I conceded, nodding my head slightly.

Leaning her head back against the seat's headrest, she turned to me, gauging me for a moment; her smile slowly returning.

"Are you going to do this the entire time we're married?" I teased her, referring to this secret amusement she appeared to be getting out of me.

"Yes, I'm going to torture you the whole time."

"And do you know what I'm going to do?" I asked, leaning closer to her and lowering my voice.

"What?" she murmured, flatting her palm to my chest.

Running my lips over her cheek, I planted them to her ear. "I'm going to violate you in ways that will make _Michael the Archangel_ have a stroke."

Pulling back she only arched that unconvinced eyebrow at me; challenging me.

Sliding my hand to the back of her neck, I pulled her flush to me and kissed her. Then pulling slightly back, I slid my hand down between the bodice of her dress and her clothed breasts, grabbing one fully in my palm.

"Edward," she only semi objected against my lips, after I'd engulfed her to me again, "the . . . driver. . ."

Releasing her inevitably with a feigned sigh, I turned to knock on the clear plastic barrier that separated us from the chauffeur.

"Can I help you, Sir?" His voice came through the little speaker on the back of the seat, a moment later.

Leaning forward, I pressed the button beside it. "Excuse me, do you mind, at all, if I feel up my wife?"

"_Edward_!" Bella immediately protested, aghast.

I chuckled fractionally beneath my breath; something that was quickly echoed by the driver.

"Not at all," was his reply.

I turned back to her, snaking my arm around her back and inching her closer to me again. "See? It's fine."

With her mouth still agape, she shook her head, in almost disbelief; though there was an edge of amusement to her expression. "You're terrible!"

Continuing to laugh lightly to myself, I pulled her against my chest, and wrapping her arms around me, she drew in a heavy breath and relaxed.

"So, now that we're an old married couple, we need some ground rules," I spoke after a moment, dropping my lips to the top of her head.

"Like what . . .?' she asked, sounding cynical again.

"Like, can I grab your tits in public now?"

She scoffed, immediately whacking me. "Would you be serious!"

I laughed again, just as the car noticeably shifted, moving onto the highway, and reaching over her, I grabbed the seat belt, locking it around her.

"Knowing our luck. . ." I explained after she arched a questioning brow at me.

She groaned. "Edward, don't say that. We're going to have ridiculously _good_ luck."

"Like what? Tell me," I asked.

A small smile pulled on her lips. "We're going to win a billion dollars in Powerball and buy an Island off Tasmania."

"Why Tasmania?" I asked, curious.

"Because it has similar weather to here, but it doesn't get as cold in the winter, and. . ." she appeared to abandon it.

"And . . . it's ten thousand miles from my sister . . .? I prompted her.

She shrugged. "And . . . IVF is a lot cheaper with Australia's Medicare. . ."

I sighed, feeling my mindset immediately shift. "Baby, I don't want you worrying about that. We're not exactly destitute. I'll take care of it," I promised her.

She nodded, appearing lost in thought, as she chewed on the inside of her lips. "I was thinking. . ." she began, before straightening up, and pulling back to meet my gaze.

"What were you thinking?"

Her eyes flickered from mine, and she frowned. "I was thinking that I should sell the restaurant. . ."

When her eyes again rose to hold mine, they were serious, and I immediately tensed.

"Okay, we're not going to talk about this right now, but that's not going to happen." I was adamant.

Damn it, I could give Bella a baby without her selling off her fucking assets, and I needed her to believe that.

To believe in me.

"Okay?" I nudged her gently from her thoughts.

When her eyes focused back on mine she smiled; it was genuine. "Okay. . ." she conceded, rolling her head against my shoulder. "It's just when I think about it . . . I don't know. . . It's so overwhelming."

Leaning closer to her, I pressed my lips to her temple. "I know, just promise me you won't think about it today."

Taking an inevitable sounding breath, she released it into a hum. "I don't want to think about it for at least twelve months." Lifting her head, she gazed squarely in my eyes. "Let's just be _married_ for a while, okay? I don't want us to have to stress about all that other stuff—not straight away."

Curling my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her against me again. "Deal," I assured her. "Besides, I thought you said we're going to have good luck?"

She only grinned, pushing it softly through her nose.

"We're going to win Powerball, remember—and then have ten babies," I teased her, causing her to immediately stiffen.

"Bloody hell, don't wish that upon me!" she exclaimed, more seriously than I expected. "Let's just aim for one."

"One? Not two . . . girls . . . ?" I reminded her, dropping my lips against the top of her head, as my mind wandered to the drawings of those two little girls that looked so damn like the two of us, but who didn't exist.

"That's . . . not a definite. We could have a blue one," she replied, continuing to sound lost in her thoughts.

"What's a blue one? A smurf?" I joked, laughing lightly when she flashed me that eyebrow.

"You're a dag," she murmured, shaking her head slightly to herself.

"I thought we weren't supposed to be talking about this?" I pointed out.

She smiled to herself, almost drunkenly. "Shut up—and weren't you supposed to be violating me?"

Did I violate her? I did things to her that she normally would never have allowed in the semi-company of a complete stranger, and by the time we arrived at this lavender farm we both looked slightly . . . disheveled. And after an hour in the car with her, I was fucking horny!

"Bloody hell!" Rach exclaimed, looking and sounding more cynical than she did surprised. "He's"—she pointed her finger in my direction—"wearing more lipstick than you are, Bells."

Bella only scoffed softly to herself, leaning further into me, while I clumsily wiped my mouth clean. Though, I was surprised I was wearing any; my mouth wasn't against her lips as much as it was in other places. . .

"I've got it all handled," Angela announced, rushing over with her assistant close behind with all the photography equipment.

So while the girls fixed up Bella for the photos, Emmett dragged me over with him, Jake, Ben and his little feral of a four year old, under a shanty looking gazebo.

"Jesus, dude," my idiot brother arched a mocking eyebrow at me, "you look more on edge than you usually do." And with that, he shoved a glass of champagne in my hand.

I took a gulp two seconds before his gorilla of a kid jumped on my back, knocking the fucking wind out of me! I literally almost dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Jesus!" I croaked out, almost afraid to straighten my back in case it fucking crippled me.

If Bella was so desperate for a baby, a few days with my nephew would soon snap her back to her senses.

"EJ!" Emmett reproached him, dragging him off me, and not sounding even remotely serious, before shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a handful of candy. "Here, go and play, and don't tell your mother!"

"You're going to give that kid sugar?" I questioned his fucking sanity, in disbelief.

"I tell you one thing, I aint never having kids," Jake added, looking at EJ as if he was Ebola, as the kid ran through the lavender field and disappeared; the violent disturbance of the plants the only evidence of his whereabouts.

"Hey," Emmett nudged me, his tone turning sly, "going by the size of Bella's old man, the two of you could end up with a kid like EJ." He winked and I think I fucking paled.

Surely the universe wouldn't be that much of an asshole! EJ looked fourteen years old at birth!

Could I put Bella through that, knowing how much she wanted a baby?

Groaning, just barely beneath my breath, I stood fully upright and downed the rest of the champagne; my eyes subconsciously falling on Bella. She looked ridiculously fucking beautiful in that white dress that showed all the curves and contours of her body. Her small body.

Bella was five foot three on a good day, and despite the fifteen pounds of muscle she'd put on while we were apart, she still appeared so little to me.

Becoming aware of my gaze, she smiled over at me like she usually did; partly to herself but at me with added warmth, while seeing right through me.

And fuck I loved her!

Of course, right at that moment, EJ came bolting out of the lavenders, covered in purple pollen shit, before the chunk of a kid propelled himself into my arms; catching me completely off guard.

"Swing me around, Uncle Bludge!" he squealed, fucking deafening me.

"Please, God, let her fucking have girls," I muttered.

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**A/N: thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and send me some loving if you're feeling in the mood. I kinda really do, secretly, like it :D  
MWAH xoxo**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay on this one, guys, but Edward would NOT speak to me. Plus I had a lot of research to do while attempting to understand what emotions married couples go through in the IVF process. It was pretty alien to me at first. I'm one of those fortunate women (or not) who gets pregnant every time my husband sneezes.  
**

**Also a big sloppy THANK YOU to Rebadams7 and SammyHale for their support when I was having a crisis. I love youuuuuu!**

**Anywho . . . I hope you enjoy,**

**MWAH xoxo**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 26**

**Edward's POV**

True To her word, Bella didn't mention babies, getting pregnant or IVF for six months. And for those six months after the wedding she was the happiest and the most at ease I'd seen her in a long fucking time.

Her old man had bought us a new truck as a wedding gift; a white Toyota Hilux 4x4. It was a good "family car" for where we lived, he'd explained, and he didn't think it was safe for me to be constantly driving along the interstate back and forth to work in my piece of shit two door. Not that he'd said those exact words, but it was implied. And I sure as hell wasn't going to knock the fact that he was worried about my safety, as well as Bella's best interests.

I guess I had to marry his daughter for him to finally get it; I was important to her.

So, Bella and I packed up our new truck and went on a month long road trip for our honeymoon. We crossed twenty-three state lines, ate in horrible truck-stop diners, had even crappier gas station coffee, and slept everywhere from inside the cabin of the truck, to under the stars in the Arizona desert.

We had two near accidents—one was kind of my fault; not that I let Bella know that—one rattle snake-in-the-sleeping-bag incident, and a close encounter with a black widow spider. The latter had me leaping ten feet in the air, shrieking like a fucking pussy while I hid behind Bella as she calmly stomped on it with the heel of her boot. Of course, she only turned and arched that cynical eyebrow at me, fighting the obvious urge to smirk.

"I know, I know—shut up," I mumbled as a half-assed response, only for Bella to laugh.

We laughed a lot, even more than we had sex—and we had _a lot_ of that. In fact, we laughed more than we talked, but then Bella and I were never what you'd call "chatty". We didn't need to constantly talk to be comfortable with each other; we never did. We spent hours in the car in near silence, with Bella leaning against me, her ankles crossed and resting up on the opened side window, and her hand against my leg as I drove.

We stopped at all the sights, and did all the touristy things. We went to Disneyland, rollerbladed in Santa Monica—which typically, Bella was terrible at—drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, toured Alcatraz, and rode down the Grand Canyon on donkeys—something I barely survived. It wasn't just the serious fucking bruising my balls were given, but the fact that in every direction I looked I was facing a thousand feet drop if the damn mule lost its footing. And it wasn't the only time I was faced with my fear of heights.

In New York, Bella wanted to go up the Empire State Building. She was prepared to go alone, but I'd insisted on going with her. I'd be fine so long as I didn't look down, I reasoned with myself. Yeah, I'd talked myself into that bullshit once before—something Bella hadn't forgotten.

The panic hit me the moment we left the elevator, and I made it just long enough to have a photo with Bella before I hauled ass back to solid ground. I wasn't even sure the damn photo was worth it. Forty bucks while looking like I was about to have a fucking heart attack.

Bella came back down twenty minutes later and we went back to our hotel room where she _calmed me down_. She'd somehow got it into her head that sex was the only way to "de-stress" me. Hey, it's not that I was complaining, but I suspected it was also a way for her to distract herself whenever she was worried about me. Which was more than I really wanted to admit.

Afterward, Bella dragged my ass jogging through Central Park. She literally had to drag me behind her, and it reminded me once again how much endurance she had. While I was laying spread-eagled on the ground, hocking my lungs up, she had barely broken into a sweat. It still shocked the hell out of me, but then I remembered when and why Bella had decided to get herself into this kind of shape, and that was usually all it took to bring me back down.

It was always going to be a fucking killjoy, because I knew _this_ Bella, _my Bella_, was a result of circumstances I had been removed from.

When we got back home to Forks we slept for three days. Who would have thought that driving could be so fucking exhausting?

For the entire week we were quite literally wiped out, but then Bella went back to the restaurant and I went back to work, and slowly we established a new routine. It basically revolved around work and sex and little else, but we were happy, and that's all I cared about.

Of course, fucking naturally, it was my pain in the ass sister who put a big fucking cork into everything.

It was the week I was back on day shift. I arrived home just after Bella, and as I fed the fleabag, she went to collect the mail. I found her ten minutes later standing in the living room staring down at the opened envelope she was gripping in her hand, with a half pained expression knotting her forehead.

"What's the matter, baby?" I asked, approaching her from behind and wrapping my palms over her shoulders to find out what appeared to be upsetting her.

She turned around, a little too hastily—almost falling against me—and attempted to neutralize her expression. "Your-your sister sent us some photos of her babies," she explained quickly, stammering, before she broke my gaze.

I sighed stiffly through my nose, immediately on edge. I'd been waiting for the little rat to stick her fucking nose into our lives again. It had been probably eating her alive to stay quiet for so long.

"Give me a look," I muttered fucking resigned before holding out my hand.

After Bella placed the bundle of photographs in my palm, I inspected them only semi-curiously. There was two of them. One dressed in pink, the other in blue; the physical depiction of my sister and her dickhead of a husband.

They looked like aliens.

"This kid looks ninety-seven years old," I commented at the single picture of the bald, bug-eyed, blue-dressed kid.

Bella scoffed softly, almost chuckling. "Honey . . . you can't say that."

"Why not?" I asked lightly, turning the photo over to read what was written on the back. "_Edward Anthony Hale?_ You've got to be fucking kidding me! The kid looks exactly like his pissant of a father, and Alice named him after me!?"

This time Bella did laugh, but it was humorless. "I didn't think you'd be too impressed by that. . ."

"Jesus fucking Christ," I mumbled just barely beneath my breath, before I skimmed quickly through the rest of the photos of her weird looking spawn, getting to the adjoining letter. "_Dear Edward and Bella_," I read aloud, mocking the little ferret's high pitched voice, _"we are proud to announce the birth of our twins, Edward and Esme—_Esme_? _Well aint that just fucking peachy? One named after me and the other named after my dearest fucking mother?"

Was she rubbing it fucking in?

Bella only mumbled out a humming sound in agreement, sounding even less than impressed than I felt.

Not in the mood to entertain this shit for a moment longer, I tossed the photos against the sofa, turned around and headed back into the kitchen. "I'll get dinner started, babe. What do you feel like?"

"I brought home leftovers—_Buddy, no_!" she suddenly burst, just as the little shit of a furball ran past me and through his dog door with half a dozen of the photos in his mouth.

Shaking her head to herself, Bella came to a standstill beside me, leaned against my side and groaned.

Laughing lightly to myself, glad for the fucking ice breaker, I draped my arm over her shoulder, and leaned down to her. "I guess he was still hungry."

She chuckled, curling herself further into me. "I guess he was."

"I'll get them off him later. You okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

But she wasn't, and as the weeks passed it became more and more evident. Naturally, Bella being Bella, she tried to hide it from me and keep up the charade that all was well, but I knew it was slowly eating away at her. That something so simple for most people was going to be almost impossible for her. Something she so desperately wanted, and something I wanted to give to her.

On top of everything, she spent way too much time with Angela, and every minute she spent with Lilly only fucked her more up. But what could I do? Keep her away from civilization? Because she was right; it seemed everyone in this damn fucking town was either knocked up or had a dozen of the little fuckers hanging from them!

I had to get us the hell away from Forks.

But it wasn't only her desire for a baby that bothered her; she also had it in her head that she had to provide me with offspring or I would eventually resent her.

I found out this piece of the fucking puzzle roughly two months after being notified of the _good news_ of mynewest _niece_ and _nephew_. We were eating dinner, and I made the abject fucking mistake of asking Bella how her day went. She told me her new _BFF, _Jessica Stanley, was pregnant with spawn number two—putting the number of pregnant women on her list of regulars to four.

She smiled and pretended she was okay with it, when I knew inside her heart was breaking.

"We'll have babies too, Bella. I promise you we will," I repeated the same fucking mantra as I had hundreds of times over, before reaching over to grab her hand, but she was no longer buying it.

Hell, even I was doubting it by that stage.

Nevertheless, all it did was frustrate her more.

"You can't keep promising me that, Edward!" she snapped, but she appeared more pissed at herself than she was at me.

"Baby, we haven't even tried IVF yet," I attempted to reason with her. "Why are you so sure it won't work?"

"I-I guess I'm scared to get my hopes up," she admitted after a moment, bunching up her forehead in an obvious attempt to prevent herself from succumbing to tears, before she severed her eyes from mine to her plate of barely touched food.

Releasing my breath, I dropped my fork, and stared at her for a moment. It was becoming clear to me that we were going to have to sort out this business with her fertility earlier than we'd planned, because I couldn't sit back and watch as she reverted back to this person she was becoming before me.

"Honey. . ." I began delicately, when she rose her head and cut me off.

"Do you know how many men leave their wives because they can't give them children, Edward?" Her voice wavered, coming close to breaking. "I read about it every day."

"Okay, first of all I don't want you talking to those fucking women anymore!" I demanded, referring to the fucking Facebook group she was in for infertility, or some shit. Every time she was on it, she became more and more fucking depressed and dejected. "And second—do you actually think I'd ever leave you over something like that?"

She shook her head, those tears she'd been trying so hard to prevent eventually spilling down her cheeks. "Right now? No. . ."

Fuck.

I got to my feet—so suddenly the chair fell backwards, scaring the fleabag who mistook it as some kind of aggression against Bella. Leaping to her side, he had the audacity to fucking growl at me.

"Get outside, you little shit!" I ordered him—he cowered under the table instead—before I grabbed Bella out of her chair and into my arms.

She clung to me, completely breaking apart. "I'm sorry, honey. I know you'd never do that, and I know I promised not to let this all get to me."

I only held her to me, having an internal fucking debate with myself, because I knew once we started IVF our lives would go off the fucking rails for a while, with no guarantee of Bella getting pregnant at the end of it. But, at the same time, I just couldn't fucking stand her continually torturing herself like this. "Baby, look at me," I instructed, and when she did, I put it to her, "Talk to me, do you want to start IVF now?"

For a moment she stared at me, all wide-eyed and full of fucking turmoil, before she took an inevitable breath and released it. "Yes, no . . . I don't know. . ."

We were booked in for the following Thursday, and what a fucking dilemma it quickly turned out to be.

First came the paperwork, mountains of the stuff. Paperwork that had nothing but big fat fucking dollar signs all over it, because they had to make sure Bella and I could afford it first and foremost. Of course, our insurance didn't cover any of it, because in the State of Washington there was no law requiring any level of coverage for fertility treatments. Which was fucking typical, and the procedures were a mile long and just kept adding up. Embryo transfer cycle, embryo freezing; sperm freezing; injection of sperm . . . I was surprised they weren't going to charge us for the cup I had to whack off into.

All up we were looking at roughly thirty thousand. The plus side was we got to pick a "package deal" or pay cycle by cycle. The package deal was for one cycle and three transfers, and if Bella got pregnant on the first transfer, we didn't get the money back for the other two.

We went with cycle by cycle.

Then came our first consultation, making sure we knew the shit we'd just signed up for. The good news was Bella's age; which gave her better than average odds of a "successful transfer". The doctor seemed pleased by this, as if it made his job easier. The procedure was then explained, to Bella mostly, because let's face it, I was just the sperm donor. The discussion was, for the most part, about "eggs"—like we were breeding fucking hens, before Bella was asked how many embryos she wanted transferred at a time.

"One," Bella replied. "Well, depending on how many healthy embryos I have, I guess."

I nodded along with her in agreement, grabbing her hand in mine, when in reality, I was well and truly fucking lost. All I was able to take away from it was the fact that I was going to have to inject Bella with a shit ton of hormones, daily. Eggs were then going to be pulled from her that I had to "fertilize".

Yeah, it _sounded _fucking simple.

After, came more tests for Bella; blood tests mainly—half a fucking dozen of them at least—and at the end of it, Bella was sent home to wait for her next period.

Because Bella's "natural cycle" was so irregular, she only had to wait for one, and as luck would have it—hoping it was a fucking sign of things to come—it happened five days later.

First up came the "down regulation" injections, to stop Bella's natural ovulation process and to "produce as many eggs as safely as possible".

Bella fucking hates needles, so I knew the first one was going to be hard. She was clammed up tighter than the night we'd first had sex.

I'd almost got it in her three times when she jumped out from in front of me.

"Don't make me hold you down, woman!" I joked with her; though, I was half serious.

"Stop pausing and just bloody do it!" she snapped.

"Okay, on three. You ready?" I asked, pulling up the material of her night shirt again.

"Yeah. . ." she replied, full of uncertainty and practically fucking sobbing.

"One . . . two. . ." I barely pressed the tip of the needle against the skin of her butt cheek, when she jumped away again.

"WAIT!"

"Jesus, Bella!"

"I'm_ sorry_!" But she didn't sound too fucking sorry, and this was two seconds before she burst into tears

With a heavy fucking sigh, I paused, giving her some time to calm down, but it was beginning to feel like pulling fucking teeth.

"Okay, I'm ready," she eventually conceded, before leaning against the bathroom sink for the umpteenth fucking time that hour.

Bending closer to her I dropped my lips to her naked shoulder, holding them against her skin for a moment. I was over this shit already.

"Think of my sister's weird looking alien twins," I spoke against her ear, and just as she drew in her breath to laugh, I jabbed and injected her.

"Edward!" she protested, spinning around to stare at me in surprise.

Surprise, because I knew it didn't hurt her nearly as much as she'd thought.

"It's done, you pain in the ass."

Letting go of her breath, she broke slowly into a broad grin, before snaking her arms around my neck, and stretching up on her toes. "Thank god for that, but you might have to take my mind off it now. . ."

And just as she threw me that fucked up coy look, I threw her over my shoulder.

Hell, I needed to be distracted from it as well.

This shit went on for three weeks, and by the end she wasn't as neurotic about it. Though, I still had to inject her by surprise for the majority of it.

At the beginning of week four we were back at the clinic to check Bella's uterus lining. If it was thin we could start the injections to stimulate her ovaries into producing eggs. It was, so it was a red light on the "Stimulation Phase", but now I had to fucking inject her _twice _a day.

It was fucking hell, but for all intents and purposes it appeared to be going well. Bella was really beginning to let herself feel optimistic that it was going to work, but, fucking typically, we were about to peak.

After getting our new drug, "Gonal-F", we were sent home to start the jabbing with an appointment in three days' time for an ultra-sound to see if Bella was producing enough "follicles".

Just before we left, the nurse pulled me aside and told me discreetly that the new medication might make Bella have "mood swings". It was a sign of things to fucking come.

Mood swings. That's a fucking laugh. If by "mood swings" she meant that my wife was going to turn into a bat shit crazy woman, maybe I would have been better prepared.

She yelled at me in the middle of the supermarket because I picked up the wrong milk, she burst into tears because the bath water was too hot; she threw the fucking spaghetti at the wall because two noodles were stuck together; and she looked at me like she could quite easily stab me to death in my sleep. Even the fleabag was cowering away from her, and there was nothing—_fucking nothing_—I could say or do to make her feel better.

The only consolation was that she was only going to be on it for no more than three weeks, but I was beginning to empathize with those fucking men who'd all left their wives. Not that I'd ever, in reality, leave Bella. At least, I'd never leave _my _Bella. The Bella that every part of my heart and soul cried out for during the six years we were apart. The Bella that was my fucking sunshine. This "injected-up-to-her-eyeballs-with-hormones" Bella however. . .

_That_ Bella I could take or leave. That Bella I could throw off a cliff.

Of course it didn't fucking help that after each appointment we had, to check how many follicles she was growing, we were told we were supposed to have increased the Gonal-F beforehand. Apparently a fucking nurse was meant to ring us to tell us to up the dosage, but naturally, it seemed to slip her fucking mind.

Three times this fucking happened, and by the end of the course—where if the fleabag didn't bury Bella, I would have—she only had seven follicles and time had run out. She couldn't be on the Gonal-F for too long or apparently she could end up with exploded fucking ovaries, or something to that extent, and she couldn't stay on it anymore, because if she didn't kill me, I would kill her.

She was booked for an egg collection two days later, and all the optimism we'd had at the beginning was starting to crumble. She was still holding on, though. By the barest fucking minimum, and I was fucking fearing the day when she cracked.

It was beginning to feel inevitable.

On the morning of the collection one of the nurses called to tell us the procedure was moved from the hospital to the clinic. We left before dawn, and Bella didn't speak a word the entire trip.

She was nervous, I told myself repeatedly, while trying to avoid eye contact with her at all cost. I couldn't say the right thing to her at all anymore, and lately even my expressions were irritating her. Plus I didn't think it would be very fucking productive if she started beating me with her purse, causing me to drive off the fucking interstate.

When we arrived, Bella was ushered off to one room, while I was shoved in the opposite direction. I barely got the chance to kiss her goodbye, only she wouldn't let me. Instead, she planted her lips to the side of my neck and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry for being such an evil witch, honey. I love you." Then she smiled at me, letting me know that she was still down there somewhere—through all this crazy shit.

Next was my part. I was given a little plastic cup with a yellow lid and sent to a room with pink walls and kitschy furniture, full of sleazy magazines I hadn't looked at since I was fifteen. There was also a selection of porn on fucking VHS that I really didn't want to fucking touch let alone watch.

How the fuck could I jack off to any of this? Hell, it'd been years since I'd even done it—I didn't need to. Bella kept me pretty well satisfied, and heaven help me if I'd whacked off over the last couple of weeks while she was full psycho. I had to make sure I had '_optimal sperm quantity'_. I swear she would have ripped my dick off—with her teeth.

Jesus. . .

Usually, all I had to do to get in the mood was picture Bella full of all her newly acquired muscles wearing a pair of cowboy boots. As fucking corny as that was, but that Bella seemed long gone, and in her place, was off the charts crazy Bella, ready to hurl a tin of dog food at my head for buying the wrong brand.

I flipped through the magazines, and paced back and forth trying to conjure something up that could get me going, but if truth be told, the last thing I felt like doing after the last couple of weeks was jacking off.

Eventually, I got my pants halfway down, and sat on the couch, trying not to fucking picture how many men had done this very thing before me, when the fucking door opened and one of the nurses stuck her head around it.

"How you going in there?" she asked all fucking cheery, while I scrambled to hide my dick behind an old copy of "Juggs" circa fucking 1981!

"_Jesus fucking Christ_!" I burst, almost losing my fucking voice, before she immediately caught on and closed the door a little too violently behind her.

But seriously, what the fuck did she expect me to say, "Please come and help me jerk off. I'm sure my psychotic wife won't mind."?

Fuck me. . .

By the time I was done with it, I was exhausted, not to mention fucking chafed. I'd never had to force it more in my entire life.

I took it to the nurse at the reception desk, as instructed, who, naturally, yelled it out for the entire fucking building to hear. "IS THIS YOUR SEMEN SAMPLE?"

I knew we were in a fucking fertility clinic, but Jesus!

_No, it's fucking super glue, you imbecile, _I wanted to reply with. Instead, I gritted my fucking teeth and nodded, turning my head to rip the fucking skin of my forehead off, when I met the wearied eyes of a half a dozen guys in the room.

This is when I got it. These guys were my people. These guys had lived my life the last couple of months for fuck knows how many "cycles". These guys had watched their wives go from a normal human being to a fucking vampire, ready to suck the manhood clean out of them, all in the quest to get her successfully pregnant.

These guys were me.

After giving me a form to fill in—to make sure my sperm didn't go to the wrong fucking woman—I filled it out and then sat in one of the plastic chairs, next to these poor fucking bastards—that I was now one of. We all smiled awkwardly at each other, but with that same sense of affinity—that we knew exactly what each other was going through—but no one spoke. What was there to say, after all?

Please kill me?

Please kill my wife?

Please make this fucking work?

Ten minutes later, I was told Bella was in recovery, and was escorted in to see her. I figured she'd be groggy or sleepy, but I sure as hell didn't expect her to be sitting up, covering her face with her hands, sobbing her fucking heart out. And I had no idea whether it had gone badly, or it was a normal reaction from the continued effect of the fucking hormones.

Sitting beside her on the bed, I pulled her against me. "What is it, baby?" I asked her softly, wiping her hair off her damp forehead.

For a good five minutes she couldn't utter a coherent word, before it rushed out of her. "I woke up, E-Edward. I f-felt s-so _v-violated_."

I immediately tensed, pausing for a minute. "What do you mean '_you woke up'_?"

She shook her head, attempting pitifully to dry her eyes and calm herself. "I w-woke up half w-way through. I w-was screaming at them t-to s-stop. It f-felt l-like th-they w-were ripping me ap-art."

On impulse I leaped off the bed, immediately fucking irate. "You _woke up_?" I fumed in fucking disbelief before looking around for someone's neck to fucking snap.

I knew the procedure Bella had just gone through, and I was assured she'd be unconscious under anesthetic. And one look at the guilty looking fucking nurse told me just how much of a fuck up it had been.

I pointed my finger at her, indicating I wanted to speak to her. She paled but followed me out of the room and into the corridor regardless.

"Take me to the fuc-_doctor _who performed my wife's surgery," I demanded slowly, through clenched teeth.

She nodded, asked me to wait where I was before she disappeared around a corner. Five minutes later a weasel of a man approached me, looking as guilty as fucking sin, while eyeing me cautiously; as if he was keenly aware I was about to rip his head off.

He looked no older than I was, and I couldn't recall ever seeing him during any of our consultations.

"You _told me_ my wife would be unconscious and she wouldn't feel a thing," I spat at him, pointing my finger an inch from his bulbous fucking head, as I struggled to keep my voice low.

"Well, no, we don't use general anesthetic in the clinic," he explained nervously, without meeting my eyes. "We use conscious sedation."

"_Conscious sedation_," I echoed him sarcastically. "How strange that none of your _incompetent fucking staff_ bothered to inform us of that," I lowered my voice further, taking a step toward him when he opened his mouth to protest.

"It's very unusual for patients to be conscious enough to feel pain," he tried explaining, but obviously knew it was futile. "I'm very sorry for your wife's discomfort."

"_Discomfort_?! Is that what you think it was?!" I snapped in fucking disbelief, glancing quickly away from him, and running my hands back through my hair, if only to distract myself from strangling the little prick. "How many did you get!?"

"How many?" he repeated, fucking blinking.

"_Eggs,_ you moron!"

His eyes widened, offended, only he had the fucking foresight not to mention it. "Five," he eventually admitted, having the decency to look ashamed.

"_Five_," I repeated darkly—fucking bitterly. "Five. . ."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Cullen. I—,"

"_Pray_ they fucking take!" I cut him off, making the idiot jump backwards against the wall as if I really was going to bury the little pissant. "Now sign my wife out of this _place_."

Fifteen minutes later I was driving Bella back home. She was supposed to stay for two hours in recovery, but there was no way in hell I was letting her stay in that fucking clinic for another second.

She was tender and sore, but more traumatized than anything else, and the look in her eyes was fucking shredding me. I knew what she was feeling without her needing to express it; that she'd failed.

And I couldn't tell her that she hadn't—that she could never fail in my eyes—because I knew she'd never believe me.

And still we had to wait and see if any of the eggs fertilized and then if any of those made it to the transfer stage. And by this point neither one of us was feeling fucking optimistic about it.

I tried to reassure her regardless, and she accepted it, but I knew she was losing hope.

I was over the entire fucking process. Surely a baby wasn't worth putting her—putting _us_—through this amount of fucking pain. Only I knew for her, it was. She wanted a baby no matter how much pain she had to go through, and I wanted to give her a baby; I just couldn't bear to see her go through much more than she already had.

It was like a bad fucking nightmare on continuous rerun.

For the next twenty-four hours Bella recovered from the fucking butchering they'd done to her, while we waited. She barely spoke; in fact, you could hear a fucking pin drop, the silence was that deafening. She was holding her breath; holding onto the last hope, and fuck me, if we got any more bad luck it would break me as much as it would her.

Then we got the phone call; three had fertilized, and all three looked healthy enough to be transferred.

The embryo transfer was booked for two days later, and it was the first time Bella smiled—really smiled—in weeks.

The night before she lost it again, apologizing to me repeatedly for being so "crazy" the last few weeks, but I knew she was so fucking on edge she needed to release it some way.

Pulling her against my chest, I buried my face against the top of her head, into her hair. "I know, baby," I murmured. "Just promise me our kid won't come out looking as weird as my newest '_nephew_' and I'll forgive you for all of it."

She laughed, whacking me in the chest for good measure. "Stop it!"

"Shut up and go to sleep, woman!" I teased her. "Big day tomorrow."

Big fucking day, indeed.

The transfer was booked for 10am, and by the time we arrived, we were told—by a different doctor this time, than 'Dr. Fuckup' from the retrieval—that one embryo had died, but the two remaining were still alive and healthy. We had one for a "fresh" transfer, and one spare that could be frozen.

I was allowed to stay with Bella this time, and it was relatively quick and painless; though, she held my hand like a vice, jumping at the first sign of pressure. The nurse talked her through it, though, while I tried to ignore the fact that the doctor was between my wife's legs, and the embryo was implanted.

Now, after the fucking rollercoaster of emotion that had been the last couple of months, all that was left to do was wait and see if the little shit stuck.

In two weeks Bella had to come in for a blood test to see if she was pregnant. The nurse made her promise not to do a home pregnancy test beforehand, in case she got a false positive, and then we left to try and live fucking normally for the next couple of weeks. Something I knew was going to be fucking agonizing.

Bella was on tenterhooks the entire time; she was almost afraid to sneeze, and she flatly refused to let me anywhere near her. It was as if she thought I might seduce her into sex and then miscarry the little bunch of cells that her entire life was now revolving around. If truth be told I wasn't about to risk this pregnancy as much as she was. For her sake, but for mine as well.

Hell, we'd gone through so much fucking heartache and energy to achieve this that I found myself desperately hoping it worked out.

I wanted this kid—I really did.

The two weeks came, and we went in for the blood test, and of course, just to fucking drag it out further, we had to wait another twenty-four hours for the results. Bella had to ring at 4pm the next day.

I was less than fucking impressed with this clinic, to say the least, but if Bella got a baby out of it, I was willing to let it all go.

Then I got the phone call.

I was at work, and so was Bella. I was expecting her call just after four, so when an "emergency" call got dispatched to me just before 1pm, I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Edward, it's Angela," came her anxious sounding voice, before I could put my mouth to the receiver.

"Angela," I repeated, fucking blankly.

"It's Bella. Can you come home?"

"What happened? Is it negative?" I asked, feeling resigned all of a sudden, but of course it would be fucking negative.

"They rang her at the restaurant, and yes, it's negative," her voice softened, "but it's not only that. . ."

I paused, and for a moment I could barely take a fucking breath.

"What is it . . . ?" I sighed, inevitably, pushing my fingers rigidly against my scalp.

"_Both_ were transferred. Bella asked when she could come in for another cycle to have the second embryo transferred, and they told her that there _were_ no more embryos—they had both been transferred at the same time," she explained in a rush before my brain could catch up and process what she was saying. "Edward . . . ?"

"Fuck. . ." I muttered, turning to beat my head into the concrete wall of the hospital, before quickly stepping inside the utilities room, fearing I was about to fucking lose it. "_Fuck!"_ I repeated, just as the anger kicked in. "_Are you fucking kidding me_!?" I almost fucking hollered, needing to suppress it on the eleventh hour.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "but Bella's in . . . _pieces_. Can you come home early?"

"I'm leaving now."

How the fuck I made it home in one piece I'll never know. I spent the majority of the time screaming threats and expletives down the phone to the fucking running joke of an infertility clinic, while I was so fucking irate I couldn't stop my hands from shaking.

"_I WANT MY DAMN MONEY BACK_!" I roared, before throwing my phone at the closed window, and almost veering off the road. Though, a part of me was really beginning to wish I fucking _could_.

Angela had taken Bella home, and by the time I arrived I found them both on the sofa. Bella was curled up in the corner, holding a mug of coffee that Angela had obviously made her, unable to disguise the fact that she was trembling all over, while the expression on her face was pure fucking heartbreak.

And it fucking broke me.

It took her a moment to even notice me standing before her. Angela gently nudged her, and when she turned to me, her entire face crumbled, before she climbed off the sofa and into my arms.

"I'm sorry, honey," she uttered in this choked, fractured voice, which only tore my heart open further.

She always felt the need to apologize to me, as if it was somehow her fault.

"It's not your fault, baby," I promised her, trying to prize her off my chest so I could look at her, but she remained glued against me.

"It is," she insisted, her sobs increasing.

Angela squeezed my arm, distracting me for a moment, letting me know she was leaving, before throwing me a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks, Ang," I mouthed, before hoisting Bella into my arms and carrying her upstairs.

"I don't want to do it anymore, Edward," she cried, burying her face into her pillow, after I laid her down on the bed. "I _can't keep_ losing them."

It was on the tip of my tongue to remind her that they were just cells, not babies—somehow thinking that would fucking comfort her—when I stopped myself. She would have killed me, because to her they _were_ babies, just as much as Lilly was, and my sister's weird looking offspring.

"I know. . ." I offered her softly, because it was all I could think to say, before I laid myself beside her and pulled her against my chest. "We'll get passed this, I promise you, honey."

"You'll eventually resent me," she reminded me of her fucking paranoia.

"I won't."

"You can't make promises that you don't know you can ever keep, E-Edward." She hiccupped, sounding pitifully broken, before I pulled her further to me.

"Bella, look at me." She refused. "Dammit, Bella, did you think I was fucking miserable in Seattle without you because I wanted fucking babies? I could have fucking had them with anyone—with Kate!"

Oh, fuck. . .

She reacted immediately, turning to gaze up at me with an injured fucking expression, like I'd mortally wounded her. I suspected I had.

"You still can. _You_ can have babies with anyone, but _I_ can't. And one day just having me around won't be enough—not when everyone around us has kids," she stressed, her voice rising, before it broke and became even more fucking gut wrenching to hear.

"Jesus, Bella, I didn't marry you for your uterus!" I insisted, stubbornly, but I knew I wasn't getting through to her. "We'll try again. We'll just have a break for a while—and we'll find another clinic."

"No," she sobbed, shaking her head, before gazing up at me. "I don't want to go through that again," she pleaded with me, "and besides, we'd have to do a brand new cycle, and I can't reconcile so much money because of _me_."

"Listen, you pain in the ass," I snapped, cupping her face in my palms and forcing her to fully look at me, "_I _would do_ anything_ for you. And if you want a baby, I'm going to fucking give you one!"

She only shook her head, her face tear streaked and blotchy, but beginning to reflect a real hopelessness that I wasn't sure I could break her out of. "Just . . . give me a while, okay, Edward?"

A while. . . A while became a few days, which became a few weeks, and slowly but surely one thing became clear. I was losing her. She was letting this define her and she was beginning to push me away—convinced I'd end up fucking hating her.

Outwardly she appeared to be handling everything well. She went to work, she came home and made me dinner. She talked about stupid shit that had happened at the restaurant, and she even had sex with me, but I could see it in her eyes; the pain and fear of what she'd lost and what she was convinced she'd inevitably lose.

I tried everything I could to distract her, to cheer her up, and make her promises that—she was right—I had no idea I could ever keep, but it was no good. She was retreating away from me.

Then came the day she told me she was going "home" to Australia for a while.

"_THE HELL YOU ARE_!" I fucking lost it. "You are my fucking wife, Bella, and you're not just going to fucking leave me over this!"

"You can't stop me!" she hollered back at me, fucking daring me.

"Wanna bet?" I challenged her, raising my brow.

"Watch me." And just to push it that much further, she threw her handbag over her shoulder, glaring up at me, before moving to leave through the front door.

I grabbed her hand, preventing her from taking a another step. "I'm not letting you leave, Bella," I insisted, lowly and full of fucking determination.

She pulled her hand back, but I only gripped her tighter, and in the next moment she was struggling, becoming more and more pissed off the longer I refused to budge.

"_Let me go_, you asshole!" she demanded, her voice becoming strained until I wasn't sure if she was angrier more than she was upset, but angry she still was.

I smirked at her, like the cocky bastard I was, knowing full well I had the upper hand. All it did was push her over the edge, before she slapped me, straight across the face, shocking the hell out of me, and by the look in her eyes she didn't fucking regret it. And right then I got the significance of it, and if fucking cut deep, because through everything I'd ever put Bella through, she'd _never _hit me.

"_DAMMIT, BELLA_!" I fucking roared, but I was gutted, before I grabbed her around the top of her arms, pulled her off the ground and anchored her up against the wall. I was too rough; I knew that immediately. I knew by the sound it made as her body slammed against the surface, and as it reflected in her face, along with a sizeable amount of shock. But I had to get it fucking through to her, at all cost. "Do you know what it would fucking do to me if you left me? _DO YOU_!?" I yelled at her, the pain of it behind my voice, making it fucking hoarse, as she shrunk subtly away from me. "It would fucking _kill me_! _Is that what you want to do_?!"

She shook her head, a little too quickly, her face slowly beginning to crumble; though, she fought with every breath against it.

"I _can't _lose you, Bella. I've tried fucking living without you, and I _can't_!" I admitted, my tone eventually softening in fucking defeat, before I released her and dropped down to the stairs; my head falling into my hands.

There was silence for the longest moment, before she collapsed beside me and pulled my head against her chest, and I fucking swear I heard her heart break in two.

"_Edward_ . . . I'm so sorry! Please—_please_ forgive me!" she pleaded with me, her voice so full of pain that I barely recognized her behind it. "I just. . . I just. . ."

But she had no more words left, because after all this shit we'd been through there was nothing left to say; there was nothing left but the two of us.

I engulfed her to me, pressing her face between my palms. "Baby, look at me." My voice continued to break, and so much fucking emotion was spilling from me I felt like it was literally shredding me. "We _will_ get through this, but you have to promise me to never_ ever_ do anything like that again."

She only nodded, emphatically, the tears flowing in rivers down her face.

"_Promise me_, Bella!" I insisted, crushing her against me this time.

"I promise," she sobbed, her breath flooding against my skin. "I'm so_ so_ sorry, Edward!"

And then she was kissing me, kissing me impulsively and heatedly as she repeatedly apologized to me, until every last word she spoke became lost against my skin, against my mouth.

I somehow got to my feet, pulling Bella to hers along with me, before I was carrying her upstairs, ripping her clothes from her body, while my heart felt like it was going to burst through my fucking chest.

I'd brought her back, back from that fucking place she instinctively withdrew away to, back to me; back _with_ me, and while we both knew it wasn't the first time this had ever happened, I _inherently_ knew it wouldn't be the last. Because, while I was the only one who could ever find her again in this fucking darkness, she was the only one who could ever find _me_.

She slept in my arms that night, her little body cocooned against mine as if she feared even unintentionally letting me go. And she sobbed silently in her sleep; all fucking night.

And I knew one thing: I had to do whatever I could to fix this.

The next day I was on afternoon shift. I woke up earlier than she did, and got up and made her breakfast, before sending her off to work. While that burning fucking agony in her eyes only cemented my resolve.

"You know I love you more than my own life, don't you?" she all but whispered, her voice trembling, and threatening her with more tears.

For a moment, I only smiled at her, before I slung my arm around her neck and pressed my lips to the top of her head.

"Yeah . . . I know. Now go to work, you pain in the ass," I teased her with too much emotion in my voice, before zipping up her jacket, because only Bella could wear a jacket in the middle of summer.

She broke into this warm, completely fucked up smile, all knowing and totally "Bella". It was something I hadn't seen since our honeymoon, and something I was beginning to doubt I'd ever see again.

I watched her leave and the minute her truck disappeared down the drive, I whipped my phone out of my pocket and dialed. It picked up after the third ring.

"Carlisle? It's Edward."

* * *

**A/N: thanks for reading, and feel free to give me some love or criticism**—**constructive or of the flame variety, I don't mind.**

**The next chapter is back to Bella. It's 50% finished, so it won't take me another month to update.  
The Friend Zone is updating tomorrow. Just adding this here, because I usually update it Friday night (Sydney Australia time)**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Writing so much angst on top of a romance comedy really makes me feel slightly bi-polar, at times. And angst in general makes me want to go fetal. But, hang in there, guys; I promise we're almost at the end and it will be an HEA. It will dammit! Surely all those 80s sad songs weren't for nothing? My one lesson out of all this: when all else fails, there's always Joe Cocker, Phil Collins and Peter Cetera. Gawd, my mother would be proud. Ugh, I'm clearly off my gourd...**

**MWAH. I love you all. **

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 27**

**Bella****'****s POV**

I hated my body. I hated that it couldn't do something that should have been completely natural, and I hated myself. I hated myself for how I'd treated Edward, and I hated myself for allowing old demons to gain control of me again.

After our failed IVF attempt, Edward and I concentrated on getting back to "us". To who we were, and what was important to us, because first and foremost, it was Edward who mattered the most. It had always been Edward, and I couldn't let anything ever threaten to come between us again.

I didn't work without Edward; it had become evident enough the years we were apart, and I shouldn't have had to keep reminding myself of that. At the same time, I was tired of seeing so much pain reflecting in his eyes; pain because of me. I had to realise that_ I_ was more detrimental to Edward than anything or _anyone._ More than his sister, and more than his mother, because Edward had given me his heart, and with it came the power to do a lot of damage to him.

**. . .**

I took a week's break from the restaurant and when I came back I was met by scores of bouquets of flowers; reminding me again how close-knit Forks really was. How the people closed ranks around their own.

It was such a touching gesture that it immediately brought tears to my eyes, but by that point, my emotions were still so raw, and I was struggling to contain them.

Ang and Sue pulled me back from the brink of completely falling apart, but thankfully, I was too busy to focus on much else than the customers. I'd planned it that way; it was a Friday, and I was in for a thirteen hour shift.

I didn't really get the opportunity to stop and think until midday, when Ang dragged me with her to the back courtyard for lunch.

"How you feeling, B?" she asked me, gently, after a moment of carefully gauging me; that familiar look of concern consolidating across her face.

"Oh. . ." I shrugged, looking down at my sandwich and picking the grain absently from the bread, "I'm okay. It is what it is, you know?"

Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, and glancing up I met her gaze. "You know I'll always be here for you guys. . ."

I nodded, a little too quickly, the emotion already hopelessly compromising my expression. "I know. . ."

"I'm just glad Edward was able to talk you out of leaving," she added, her tone almost turning wry, but it was as if she'd pulled the plug on me, and I was instantly flooded.

"Oh, god, Ang," I all but sobbed, my heart for one moment feeling like it was going to fragment, "I can't believe how badly I hurt him. He just stared at me with-with this _betrayal_ shining from his eyes."

"Oh, B, he understands what you're going through. He really does," she assured me, squeezing my shoulder, and I knew she was right.

He did, but the pain that broke from Edward that day, because of me, threatened to haunt me for a long time to come.

"I've put him through so much—he deserves some kind of husband of the year award," I mumbled, scoffing to myself almost ironically, as I swatted the tears impatiently from my eyes.

Ironic, because Edward and I hadn't even made it through our first year as husband and wife.

For a moment Angela only gazed at me, smiling sadly before she began; her voice softening delicately, "B, what you guys are going through most couples couldn't possibly imagine, but I know with all my heart, if anyone can get through it, it's you and Edward."

I nodded again, unable to hold her gaze as tears slipped silently from beneath my lashes. "Thanks, Ang."

I had no doubt Edward and I would get through this; I just had no idea what kind of impact a childless future would have on the two of us.

We ate in silence for several minutes. I knew there wasn't much Ang could say, and I didn't want her to think she had to keep reassuring me. As it was, when she broke the silence it was to give me the out she'd offered me several times already.

"B, are you sure you're up for Lil's party tomorrow—Ben and I will completely understand if you're not."

I shook my head, wishing so badly I could take it. I wasn't ready—I wasn't even close to being ready—but at the same time, I didn't want what Edward and I were going through to impact the lives of others. Ang was my best friend, and Lilly was my Goddaughter. I promised to be there for her, despite her dire warnings of the amount of babies and expectant mothers attending.

"No, it's fine, Ang—I'll be fine. And how could I miss Lilly's first birthday?" I insisted, forcing the conviction to my tone. Conviction I should have been feeling in place of so much cowardice.

Still, it was so hard to believe a year had passed already. A year since Lilly's birth . . . and a year since I'd lost my second baby with Edward.

"I just don't want you to be too confronted by something . . . that's so close to home for you guys," Angela explained her reasoning once more.

Once more giving me the out I so desperately wished I could take.

"I'll be okay," I assured her one more time, coming no close to convincing her than I had the several times previously, before deciding to change the subject. "I can't believe she's going to be one."

"I know," Angela agreed, her tone inherently brightening before it warmed. "It went so fast. Ben already wants me to have another—" she cut herself short, her eyes widening, and her face immediately flooding with guilt, before she severed her gaze from mine. "Oh, god, B—I'm so sorry. How insensitive of me!"

"Bloody hell, Ang. That was only really awkward," I tried to make light of it—to make light of what I was sure was going to be one of the many faux pas I'd be subjected to the next day. Of people tiptoeing around me, afraid to say the wrong thing and upset me, or worse; avoiding me altogether.

It was an approach a few of the locals had already taken. Jessica Crowley, for example, had stopped coming to the restaurant altogether, and considering she once came four days a week, religiously, her absence wasn't exactly tactful.

Of course, I pretended I didn't notice and went back to work as usual, until I began wishing everyone shared Jessica's method of dealing with me. It's not that I didn't appreciate their heartfelt condolences and prayers each time I rang up their order, or was cornered in the parking lot. I did; I just hated the reality it continuously forced me to accept; that Edward and I were becoming known as that "unfortunate childless couple".

It seemed a ridiculous title to give a pair of newlyweds, barely twenty-seven years old, but for me and Edward it had already stuck, and was beginning to feel like a foreshadowing.

People didn't talk to me and Edward casually, or randomly anymore. Now all conversation came with a motive; to cheer us up and give us hope. So I listened patiently, forcing the smile to my lips as my many patrons relayed various "IVF success stories" of obscure friends of relatives who'd apparently gone through the procedure before us, while never letting on that all these damn anecdotes did was serve as a brutal reminder of what Edward and I struggled with on a daily basis to overcome.

A struggle I still feared would get the better of us.

**. . .**

Edward was due back from work around 5:30 pm. He was late, and since it was an occupational hazard for his line of work, I wasn't too concerned. Still, he usually let me know when he was running late, and I didn't fully breathe easy again until I saw his car pull up in the parking lot.

Only, the moment Edward stepped from the truck I immediately knew something was _very _wrong. It was in his posture; his entire body of muscles. He was tense—rigid. Something was absolutely _fraying_ him.

My heart paused in fear, and with my eyes not deviating from his approaching form, silhouetted, as he was, by the nearby street lamp, I made a hasty explanation to Sue before practically running to meet him.

Thankfully, I got to him before he entered the restaurant, because the moment my eyes met with the completely_ overrun _intensity of his, he quite literally crumbled.

In the next moment he engulfed me to him, his entire frame trembling, seemingly, uncontrollably.

"Honey, what is it?" I exclaimed, the alarm flooding my voice, causing it to catch.

He only shook his head, attempting to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was stuttering. And still he refused to let me go, squeezing me to him as his body continued to shudder against mine.

"Edward. . ." I began, softly, fighting to keep my tone from completely breaking, "come around the back and we'll talk. Okay . . . ?"

After a long pause he nodded, eventually releasing me, before I grabbed his hand and led him around to the courtyard. He was almost unsteady on his feet, as he pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes. I suspected he was attempting to shield me from the presence of his tears, as he wiped them roughly from his face.

After dropping down in one of the chairs, he buried his head in his palms, looking so completely broken that it echoed immediately through me; making me feel so incredibly helpless.

Cradling his head against me, I practically curled myself around him before pressing my face against his hair. He'd recently had it cut, and gone was its usual mayhem.

"Did something happen at work?" I breached, gently.

For the longest time he didn't speak a word; he only choked back his emotion and tried in vain to stop his body from shaking—unsuccessfully, before he finally relented. "It was a bad day today, baby, but . . . I-I can't talk about it right now."

I planted my lips to his temple, leaving them against his skin for a moment; feeling his pulse pounding swiftly behind it. "Okay . . . do you want to go home? I can get Sue to lock up."

He shook his head, adamant, rubbing once more at his face before forcefully drawing his breath back through his nose. "No," he answered, his voice continuing to waver regardless. "I'll stay and help. I'd rather keep myself occupied."

My heart paused, aching in my chest. He'd had bad days at work before, but I had never seen him like this. It was really worrying me.

What could possibly have happened?

"All right," I replied reluctantly, before a heavy sigh left me. The pain coursing through him was so intense it was practically tangible, and it was beginning to affect me. "You want me to get you some dinner?"

"Yeah. . ." he answered, nodding simultaneously, attempting once more to pull himself together.

Whatever it was that was shredding him was breaking me, and seeming to sense it, he pulled us both to our feet, before bending down to kiss my lips. It was brief, clumsy, and almost desperate, that it did nothing to quell my rapidly building alarm.

Turning, I wrapped my arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly to me and burying my face against his chest. I felt his hands gather in my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, before his lips dropped against the top of my head.

"I'm okay, baby," he whispered, but I knew he wasn't, and even as he continued to reassure me that tsunami of inevitability continued on towards us.

"Okay. . ." I pulled back from him, hastily wiping my eyes, before I could meet his; they were burning in their depths, despondent and full of grief that I paused, the words dying on my lips. "Edward. . . "

His hand rose and cupped my cheek; his thumb slicing a path through my tears. "Not yet, Bella," he all but pleaded with me, and I wasn't altogether sure of his meaning. Because, between the two of us, he could have been referring to any number of things.

Perhaps he did intend for it to be a double meaning.

Closing my eyes, I nodded briefly in understanding, before turning toward the back entrance of the diner; grabbing his hand behind me.

"Okay, go and grab a seat. Is there anything you feel like?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him.

"I don't care," he mumbled, half shrugging; his smile almost becoming warm.

He left me in the kitchen, squeezing my side gently before he headed into the restaurant dining area. I watched him go, becoming increasingly tormented by him before I forced my focus back to work; only half succeeding.

I'd prepared beef ravioli for him earlier, and as I reached into the refrigerator to heat it up, Ang came back into the kitchen, her expression alarmed.

"B, is Edward okay? He looks completely shattered," she exclaimed in all but a whisper.

I shook my head, feeling the frown deeply crease my forehead, "Something happened at work, and he won't tell me what," I answered, distracted, before a thought suddenly occurred to me. "Turn on the TV."

Picking up the remote control from inside one of the kitchen drawers, Angela clicked on the small portable television set and scanned through the channels until she found the local news.

We quickly discovered the source of Edward's anguish.

I immediately froze, my eyes glued to the small screen, before my breath left me, and the spoon I was holding fell from my hand; clattering to the tiled floor below.

There had been a murder suicide in the Olympic National Park, south off Hurricane Ridge Road, the news anchor reported in a sombre tone, before switching to the journalist on location. A man and two young children had been found unresponsive with carbon monoxide poisoning, the middle aged reporter in the brown suit explained, and there in no more than three or four frames was Edward, bent over a tiny shirtless body as he performed CPR, an unimaginable expression encompassing his face, while the identity of the baby was blurred out.

I gasped, reflexively stepping backwards, my hand covering my mouth in absolute horror.

"Oh my god," Ang uttered from beside me, expressing what I couldn't; my voice had completely failed me.

In the next moment, I whipped my head around to the restaurant, searching for Edward. I found him sitting slumped in one of the booths off to the side. Uncle Billy sat opposite him, his hand on Edward's shoulder as he spoke to him. Edward only nodded, despondently, before his eyes seemed to instinctively rise and catch mine.

He shook his head, his expression this time seeming helpless. _Not yet, Bella_, I heard his voice echo in my mind; something his eyes appeared to immediately reflect.

I nodded; he wasn't ready to face it. I wasn't sure if he ever would be, but right now he wasn't.

"Who would be that evil—_who_?" Ang's increasingly angry voice invaded my thoughts, pulling them from Edward.

I turned back to her, shaking my head. "There's no words," I spoke quietly.

"That poor mother," her voice quivered in empathy, before she picked up the remote control and switched the television off in disgust.

"He did it to spite his ex-wife, no doubt," Sue commented, shaking her head to herself as she pounded on the ground meat. "Not everyone who has kids deserves them."

It was a double meaning; I'd heard it a lot the last several months. Stories of negligent parents followed by the standard expressions of pity; as if the fact that horrible people being able to have children, where Edward and I couldn't, was meant to be some kind of comfort.

Of course, the injustices of the world weren't going to change the problems with my fertility, and I was on the verge of reminding Sue of this when Uncle Billy walked into the kitchen; a weary look etched into his weather worn face.

"Bella . . . I spoke to Edward's boss a few minutes ago. He's giving him the weekend off. I suggest getting him away for a couple of days—he's really struggling," he relayed, before taking a heavy breath and turning to flash Sue an awkward, welcoming smile.

I nodded.

"Thanks, Uncle Billy. I will," I said with a sigh, before cupping my palm around my forehead, wishing I'd decided to start back at work on any other day than this one. "I'd take him home now, but he wants to stay busy."

"I can understand that," he admitted, before bending down to plant a kiss on my cheek—a belated welcoming. "After he's eaten I'll take him out for a couple of beers. I'll swing by and pick up Jake too. We'll get his mind off it for a while."

"You want us to make you dinner as well, darl?" Sue put it to him just as I flashed him a broad, grateful smile.

There were no words to express my gratitude for the fact that my uncle had taken Edward under his wing—especially considering Edward's past with Jacob, and in light of the absence of Edward's family.

"Oh," a smile broke quickly across his face before he blushed, "well, why not."

"I'm making Edward beef ravioli, Uncle Billy. Would you like the same?" I asked, pouring the premade meal into a pan to be reheated.

"That'll be nice, Bella." He smiled warmly before returning to the restaurant opposite Edward.

"B . . ." Angela broke my concentration a moment later, her tone gentle. I turned to her. "I don't expect you guys to come tomorrow after what happened with Edward today. You two deserve some time away. We'll catch up after the weekend."

"Oh, Ang. . ." I said with a despairing sigh. It had completely slipped my mind.

"You don't have to say anything. I completely understand, and so will Ben." She flashed me a sympathetic smile. In fact, she was being so gracious that I suddenly felt terrible.

This was the out I had wanted, but not at the expense of Edward—seeing Edward in more pain. At the same time, Uncle Billy was right; I had to get him away.

"You're being too nice about it, Ang," I acknowledged softly; which only made me feel worse.

"Bella, some things are bigger, and what happened today is one of those things. You need to look after your husband—and yourself," she stressed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and squeezing me briefly.

I nodded, inhaling back the threat of more tears. I was a complete basket case these days. I cried at the drop of a hat. "Thanks, Ang. We'll drop by when we're home to give Lilly her gift."

Flashing me a warm smile, Angela quickly kissed my cheek before picking up the waiting order and disappearing back into the restaurant.

"She's a good kid," Sue spoke up from beside me, before silently relaying her support by slinging her arm around my neck and nudging me, before turning her attention back to the Irish Stew she was preparing.

I needed a moment to breathe before I fell to pieces, so quickly serving up two plates of beef ravioli, I headed into the restaurant to Edward and Uncle Billy.

Edward looked just as dejected, but as I placed his meal before him he managed a smile, with some of his charm creeping back into it, before he curled his arm around my waist; burying his face into my side for a moment.

"Thanks, baby," he mumbled after he released me, before with an inward sigh I left him to return to the kitchen.

A half an hour later he let me know he was going out with Uncle Billy and Jake. He appeared reluctant, so reluctant I had to practically force him out the door to leave. He was back again just as I was locking up, but he was no less on edge than he had been that afternoon.

When we got home it was obvious Edward still wasn't up for talking, and not wanting to push him, I ran him a bath, before feeding Buddy and tidying the kitchen from breakfast that morning. By the time I climbed the stairs to take a shower, Edward was out of the bath; the only evidence that he'd even been in it was the soapy, lukewarm bathwater that he'd forgotten to empty.

Turning on the hot water, I stepped under the spray, half expecting Edward to jump in the shower with me. It was his usual habit every Friday and Saturday night after we came home from the restaurant, but not tonight.

I found him lying in the middle of the bed, asleep on his stomach; a bath towel still wrapped loosely around his waist. And even in his sleep he looked tormented and so completely vulnerable that my heart once again ached in my chest.

Was this what our lives had become? Constant pain and heart ache? I couldn't bear it a moment longer; in fact, I could barely recall the last time Edward and I laughed together; really laughed. Everything around us appeared to be crumbling, and while we clung to each other, it wasn't for any other reason but to survive, to get through what had become of our lives together.

But while we'd always remain connected, we were in danger of losing sight of the _significance_ of that connection. The affinity between us seemed to now come with a reason, a motive. We didn't make love anymore. Sex was therapy. To get Edward past his family, or me past my infertility; never just for us, between us.

We were too young to be so old, I thought as I watched his smooth, bare back rise and fall rhythmically in his sleep. Too young to be so consumed by the thought of babies, and too newly married to have such a dark cloud hanging over us.

Unfortunately, dealing with the death of children was an inevitability in Edward's career, so when it happened it shouldn't have felt like it was tipping the two of us over the edge.

But that's exactly what it appeared to be doing. Edward was tired and I was. . .

I wasn't even sure who I was anymore, let alone what I was feeling. At the moment I knew only one thing; the one thing that mattered most.

Edward was my husband, and he needed me.

Being careful not to disturb him, I crawled on the bed beside him, curling myself into him. He stirred, before rolling on his side and wrapping his arm around me, pulling me further against him.

I slept in his arms that night, like I did most nights, but this time it was different. There were no blankets, no clothes, no inhibitions; just Edward's naked body curled against mine, as I cradled his head to my chest. He kept me warm and protected, physically, while I embraced him, releasing him from those overpowering emotions of his. For just a moment.

He didn't tell me about what had happened that Friday at work, but he didn't need to.

In the morning we drove to Seattle to stay with Rose and Emmett for the weekend. Emmett was one of the few people who could get through to Edward in times like these, while Rose and I had become good friends. Plus, being around EJ made me appreciate the fact that Edward and I were still childless. It's not that he was a horrible child. He just had endless amounts of energy; exacerbated by the fact that Emmett was constantly feeding him sugar. He was exhausting just to watch.

And it wasn't an accident that he was an only child.

By the time we arrived back in Forks Sunday evening Edward and I had found ourselves again, amongst the chaos of the last several months we rediscovered what was important. But it's funny how the universe works. Because of the tragedy that happened Friday, Edward and I missed Lilly's first birthday party. Most of the young families of Forks, and surrounding towns, attended. Sam and his wife, Emily, were there, announcing the happy news of their pregnancy, just as Ang and Ben did the same.

I suspected this was the main reason why Ang had given me the out I had so desperately wanted; to spare me from the pain of a happiness that was not promised to me and Edward.

I was happy for Ang, and Sam too; I really was. As much as it stung I wouldn't begrudge anyone of happiness, or wish upon them what Edward and I were going through.

But still . . . it was as if the universe was also playing a cruel game with my emotions. Pregnancy and babies seemed to be constantly surrounding me, overwhelming me.

Mocking me.

There wasn't anything I could do about it, and it would be completely counterproductive to dwell in self-pity, so I got on with life with Edward, and at the restaurant; keeping that smile plastered on my face with each new pregnancy announcement, or birth of a new baby, while the panic quietly simmered just beneath the surface.

Edward kept insisting that we do another cycle of IVF—at another infertility clinic, of course, but I wasn't ready to put myself through such an emotional gamble, and I still couldn't reconcile spending so much money on something that wasn't guaranteed. Not to mention putting so much strain on the two of us and our marriage. But Edward was insistent; he wanted to give me a baby more than I wanted one, it seemed, and so to placate him I promised him I'd consider it again after a few months.

It would have been so much easier if I just wasn't ready for kids yet, and maybe if I had no fertility issues that would have been the case. But with a childless future looming over me, it came with a sense of desperation to try and rectify it while I was young, before my age would become another hurdle.

At the same time, I still carried that yearning to replace the babies I'd already lost; still haunted by faces that shouldn't have been as familiar as they were. I carried that ache everywhere I went; it even followed me into my dreams, and it never dulled. Edward was able to distract me from it for a lot of the time, but even he couldn't take the burden of it from me—as much as I wished he could. Because they were apart of him, as well.

For the next week at the restaurant Angela could barely look at me, and I absolutely detested the fact that I was inhibiting her happiness; that she couldn't share it with me.

"Bloody hell, Ang!" I finally snapped, after it continued into the following week. "I _forbid_ you to feel guilty because you're pregnant!"

She opened her mouth to reply, her expression more and more culpable that it was really beginning to upset me, when my iPhone rang, effectively cutting her off. After an exasperated huff in her direction, I picked up my phone and glanced at the screen; it was a private number.

I usually let my message bank pick up unknown numbers—especially since the fateful day that Jazz rang and proceeded to holler down the receiver at me. But needing an excuse to delay this conversation with Angela, I answered it, stiffly and full of frustration.

"Hello, Mrs Cullen?" a middle aged woman asked politely.

"Yes . . . ?" I answered.

"This is Victoria Reed from Pacific Northwest Fertility. I'm calling to confirm your appointment with Dr Stewart for next Monday the 18th."

I hesitated, my heart pausing. "I . . . I'm sorry?"

"Mrs Cullen—Mrs _Isabella _Cullen?" she clarified, beginning to sound uncertain.

"Yes."

"And your referring doctor is Dr Carlisle Masen?"

For the second time I faltered, my mind beginning to race. "Dr Masen is my father in law."

"Dr Masen has referred you to Dr Stewart for infertility treatment, due to"—I heard the sound of papers being rustled—"obstructed fallopian tubes. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes—I mean, I have obstructed tubes, but . . . no, I wasn't aware of the referral," I admitted, dragging my fingers over my brow and into my hair in growing confusion.

"Do you require fertility treatment, Mrs Cullen?"

"Yes."

"Okay, my advice is to keep the appointment, because the fact that Dr Stewart was able to squeeze you in is something of a miracle. The average wait period to get in to see him is two years," she disclosed, her tone lowering; emphasising the importance of it.

"I-I'll have to speak to my husband about it, first," I explained.

"Okay, I can hold the appointment for twenty-four hours while you talk it over with your husband, dear, but no longer than that. I'm sorry. Dr Stewart is extremely busy."

"I understand," I replied, my hands beginning to quiver, as my eyes met the wide anticipation of Angela's.

"If you can call me tomorrow to either confirm or cancel your appointment that would be great. My name is Victoria Reed, Dr Stewart's receptionist. Do you have a pen?"

"Ah—yes," I said quickly, pulling a pen and notepad from my apron before scrawling down the number she relayed to me.

When I hung up, I turned fully to Angela, my mouth falling agape.

"Edward's step-father has got me an appointment to see _Dr Stewart_!" I explained in almost disbelief.

"The Doctor in Seattle? The one with a huge IVF success rate?" she prompted me, her voice straining in her growing excitement.

I nodded, my hand all but subconsciously flattening over my stuttering heart.

"_B ._ . . !" Ang exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice lowered, before she grabbed me and proceeded to jump up and down. "I'm_ so_ happy for you!"

"But, I don't understand," I admitted, shaking my head, after untangling myself from Angela's enthusiasm. "We haven't spoken to Edward's parents in _years_—at least, _I _haven't._"_

"Do you think Edward spoke to his father to ask for advice, or something?" Ang put to me, delicately this time.

I shook my head again, but was immediately doubting myself. I had pushed Edward so far that it was entirely possible he had.

I wouldn't know until I could speak to him, but he wasn't due home from work for another three hours. I could call him, but he was often on route in the ambulance somewhere and couldn't take calls. Of course, I could call his station, but that was generally only for emergencies.

I tried his phone anyway, and just as expected, it went straight to his voice mail.

He called back almost two hours later.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was busy all day today," he explained apologetically. "I'm about to head home—what's up?"

"Oh, nothing," I lied. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

He chuckled softly, before teasing me, "You're getting sappy in your old age, gorgeous."

"Stop it," I murmured, my voice dropping affectionately." I'll see you soon."

Edward arrived home twenty minutes after I did, and after playing with Buddy for a couple of minutes in the rear yard, he came through the back kitchen door. "Hey, baby," he greeted me, his smile already tender and broadening. He engulfed me to him, planting his lips to mine briefly but repeatedly, before releasing me to yank open the door of the refrigerator. "Three kids almost drowned today"—he held up three fingers in emphasis—"_three,_" he stated with a heavy sigh, grabbing a beer and shutting the door with a thud, before rummaging around in the utensil drawer for the bottle opener. "The first thing we're doing when we have a kid is teaching him how to swim."

"Yeah," I said softly, nodding my head in agreement, as I leaned against the doorway watching him.

With his beer opened, he was back in the refrigerator searching for something to eat—or more for the leftovers I usually brought home for him. After grabbing the small plastic container of chicken carbonara, he peeled back the lid and brought it to his nose. "Oh. . ." he uttered in appreciation before placing it roughly in the microwave and pressing the reheat button. This is when he turned to me, his brow quirking. "You okay, babe? You're quiet."

"I'm fine," I replied, half shrugging, flashing him a warm smile, before switching the coffee machine on. "I got an interesting phone call today," I mentioned, casually.

He paused and glanced up at me, only appearing minimally curious. "Oh yeah—who from?" he asked, shoving a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

"From the Pacific Northwest Fertility clinic, confirming my appointment," I answered, placing his coffee in front of him before taking the seat opposite him at the kitchen table with my own.

He stopped mid-chew, before swallowing, his forehead bunching. "I . . . don't understand. . . Have you decided you want to do another cycle?" His tone brightened.

I shook my head. "No . . . this appointment was made on my behalf by . . . _Carlisle_."

This time his expression completely smoothed out before he straightened his back. "Oh . . . r-really?" And he didn't appear surprised by it. Not at all.

"You didn't know anything about it?" I put it to him, my brows raised.

"No, I mean, not about the appointment," he confessed.

"Edward. . ." I sighed, dropping my forehead into my palm, "did you ask Carlisle to help us out?"

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes lowering to the fork in his hand, that he allowed to slip from his fingers onto the plastic container. "I asked him to see what he could do."

"Honey . . ." I sighed, helplessly, before he glanced up and again met my eyes, "you didn't need to do that."

"I _did_," he countered, seriously. "In case you haven't noticed, baby, we're not doing so great."

I was immediately assaulted by a wave of emotion, fighting to hold it back regardless; even as I watched it reflect in Edward's expression. "Does he expect anything from you in return?" I asked, my voice catching.

He broke my gaze, biting down on the inside of his lip, looking distracted for a moment, before picking up his fork and continuing to eat. "He wants me to think about making amends with my mother . . . and-and Alice," he answered quietly, without emotion.

I only watched him for a moment, watching as the vein down his forehead began to bulge, giving away the fact that he was a lot more troubled by this conversation than he wanted me to know.

"And you'd do that?" I asked him, my voice this time completely breaking.

He looked up, his expression this time becoming compromised. "Bella, come on. Of course I would."

"Are you sure?" I whispered, reaching out to grab his hand, before he coaxed me around the table, pulling me gently on his lap.

"I'm sure," he promised me, dropping his lips and nose to the curve of my neck, before his breath completely left him. "I mean what would it really mean? Seeing them once a year—getting an annual Christmas card? I can put up with that, baby."

"You know with Alice it'll never be that simple," I reminded him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

"We'll move to Tasmania," he murmured, a small smile curving on his lips.

I laughed softly, kissing the side of his head, before resting my brow momentarily with his. "I don't know. . ."

"Baby, look at me," he said seriously, leaning back to gauge me. "Forget them—this isn't about them. Do _you _want to try again?"

"Of course I do," I admitted in little more than a whisper, my heart faltering at the very idea of it, "but . . . a new cycle means paying for everything from scratch."

He only grinned, as if immediately dismissing it. "Rose helped me get a settlement check from the last clinic. They reimbursed us for eighty percent of what we paid out."

Rose was studying law at Seattle University School of Law, and was already notorious for her intimidating approach. I can only imagine she would have been all too keen to flex her muscles by helping Edward out. And it explained all the phone calls Edward and Rose had exchanged over the last few months. At the time, Edward had rationalized it by telling me she and Emmett were having problems, but I should have known—and Edward is a terrible liar.

"_What_?" I exclaimed, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but I couldn't deny that I was upset that he'd taken it on himself and kept it from me.

"At the time I didn't want to bother you with all that stuff," he explained himself, before his smile once again returned. "And I wanted to surprise you."

"_Honey_!" I reproached him. "You can't—."

"Baby, come on—you were barely talking to me there for a while, remember?" he tactfully pointed out, reminding me once again how terribly I'd treated him.

I only sighed, deeply, wearily, before bowing my head against his.

"We _have _the money. . ." he emphasized, pulling back once more to meet my eyes. "So, what do you think? You want to do this?"

I paused for a moment, to properly process it, while my heart continued on a frenzied trajectory of both fear and hope, and deep down I knew I couldn't waste such a huge opportunity.

If I was being truly honest with myself, I wasn't ready to concede defeat just yet, and despite the lack of guarantees, the needles, the hormones, and absolute trauma that was threatened with it, I really wanted to try again. I wanted to lose myself in the anticipation of what was one of my deepest desires, one more time, because the promise of what it might result in far outweighed all the heart ache if it failed.

To have that piece of me and Edward in my arms.

And so, taking a momentous breath, I broke into a resolute smile, feeling it grow wide across my face. "Let's do this."

* * *

**A/N: dun dun dun, so will it be baby makes three? Let me know your thoughts, and see you all soon. (I bloody hope so, anyway)**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I'm sorry for the massive delay, guys. I'm not really sure how many follow me on FB—despite the fact that I don't advertise my fics on there—but if you are you might know that I did write a post explaining how I lost all Because of You and The Friend Zone chapters due to a corrupted copy of Office 360. I tried everything to get them back, and when I realised I'd lost them, I was gutted and I lost all desire to write. I am trying to get back into it again, despite the general "meh" feelings still lingering, so please be patient with me. I will try and get them rewritten as quickly as I can.  
I hope I haven't lost too many of you, but the ones still sticking around, you know I love you to bits. Whether there's a few or hundreds of you.  
I'll add a recap from the end of last chapter to refresh your memories.  
Smooch xx**

* * *

_Previously:  
_

"Edward. . ." I sighed, dropping my forehead into my palm, "did you ask Carlisle to help us out?"

"Yeah," he conceded, his eyes lowering to the fork in his hand, that he allowed to slip from his fingers onto the plastic container. "I asked him to see what he could do."

"Honey . . ." I sighed, helplessly, before he glanced up and again met my eyes, "you didn't need to do that."

"I _did_," he countered, seriously. "In case you haven't noticed, baby, we're not doing so great."

I was immediately assaulted by a wave of emotion, fighting to hold it back regardless; even as I watched it reflect in Edward's expression. "Does he expect anything from you in return?" I asked, my voice catching.

He broke my gaze, biting down on the inside of his lip, looking distracted for a moment, before picking up his fork and continuing to eat. "He wants me to think about making amends with my mother . . . and-and Alice," he answered quietly, without emotion.

I only watched him for a moment, watching as the vein down his forehead began to bulge, giving away the fact that he was a lot more troubled by this conversation than he wanted me to know.

"And you'd do that?" I asked him, my voice this time completely breaking.

He looked up, his expression this time becoming compromised. "Bella, come on. Of course I would."

"Are you sure?" I whispered, reaching out to grab his hand, before he coaxed me around the table, pulling me gently on his lap.

"I'm sure," he promised me, dropping his lips and nose to the curve of my neck, before his breath completely left him. "I mean what would it really mean? Seeing them once a year—getting an annual Christmas card? I can put up with that, baby."

"You know with Alice it'll never be that simple," I reminded him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

"We'll move to Tasmania," he murmured, a small smile curving on his lips.

I laughed softly, kissing the side of his head, before resting my brow momentarily with his. "I don't know. . ."

"Baby, look at me," he said seriously, leaning back to gauge me. "Forget them—this isn't about them. Do _you _want to try again?"

"Of course I do," I admitted in little more than a whisper, my heart faltering at the very idea of it, "but . . . a new cycle means paying for everything from scratch."

He only grinned, as if immediately dismissing it. "Rose helped me get a settlement check from the last clinic. They reimbursed us for eighty percent of what we paid out."

Rose was studying law at Seattle University School of Law, and was already notorious for her intimidating approach. I can only imagine she would have been all too keen to flex her muscles by helping Edward out. And it explained all the phone calls Edward and Rose had exchanged over the last few months. At the time, Edward had rationalized it by telling me she and Emmett were having problems, but I should have known—and Edward is a terrible liar.

"_What_?" I exclaimed, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but I couldn't deny that I was upset that he'd taken it on himself and kept it from me.

"At the time I didn't want to bother you with all that stuff," he explained himself, before his smile once again returned. "And I wanted to surprise you."

"_Honey_!" I reproached him. "You can't—."

"Baby, come on—you were barely talking to me there for a while, remember?" he tactfully pointed out, reminding me once again how terribly I'd treated him.

I only sighed, deeply, wearily, before bowing my head against his.

"We _have _the money. . ." he emphasized, pulling back once more to meet my eyes. "So, what do you think? You want to do this?"

I paused for a moment, to properly process it, while my heart continued on a frenzied trajectory of both fear and hope, and deep down I knew I couldn't waste such a huge opportunity.

If I was being truly honest with myself, I wasn't ready to concede defeat just yet, and despite the lack of guarantees, the needles, the hormones, and absolute trauma that was threatened with it, I really wanted to try again. I wanted to lose myself in the anticipation of what was one of my deepest desires, one more time, because the promise of what it might result in far outweighed all the heart ache if it failed.

To have that piece of me and Edward in my arms.

And so, taking a momentous breath, I broke into a resolute smile, feeling it grow wide across my face. "Let's do this."

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 28**

**Bella's POV:**

My first appointment at Pacific Northwest Fertility was scheduled for eight-thirty in the morning, but instead of getting up before dawn to drive the, close to, four hour journey to Seattle, Edward and I drove across the afternoon before and stayed the night with Emmett and Rose.

And I have to say, it was almost ironic going for fertility treatment immediately after all but thanking the heavens that Edward and I were still childless. It was unavoidable, though; EJ was—as Edward called him—_feral._

His energy levels were beyond comprehension, and exacerbated by Emmett's complete amusement by everything he did. This, in turn, sparked Rose's continued impatience, but it appeared EJ just couldn't keep still.

Literally.

"EJ!" Rose snapped, slamming her palm down on the dining table beside him, as her other rubbed forcefully at her forehead. "Use your fork!"

She'd only succeeded in startling him, as the half eaten lamb chop and handful of peas he gripped in his chubby fists were flung in the air.

"I can't get the peas on it!" he whined.

"Well mix them with your mashed potato." Rose sighed.

"But that tastes yukky!" EJ replied, his tone growing higher.

"EJ!" Emmett responded, almost sounding reproachful; a sly grin forming across his face the longer his son stared at him in surprise. "Hit me."

And with that, EJ grabbed another fistful of peas and promptly threw them in the direction of Emmett's wide open mouth. Naturally, all but one or two missed; the rest rebounded off Emmett's face onto the dining table.

"Emmett—for the love of god!" Rose exploded. "_Who _is the child here!?"

EJ immediately outstretched his finger at his father, just as Edward scoffed back the obvious urge to laugh.

"Edward. . ." I whispered, reaching under the table to grab his knee.

"Hit me," EJ suddenly piped up, opening his mouth wide, before Emmett tossed a single pea into it.

Rose only huffed brashly, having obviously decided to let it go, before she turned her attention to me. "So, Bella, if you have a boy are you going to name him after Edward?" she asked dryly and full of sarcasm. "That way we'll have two EJs. Won't that be just _great?"_

"Erm. . ." I mumbled, before Edward answered for me.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen. My sister and her _husband_"—his voice immediately restricted—"already gave that name to their weird looking spawn."

"I told you they were freaky looking!" Emmett declared, seemingly at Rose; who rolled her eyes in response.

"He looks like Jasper; he had no eyebrows, either, but they should have taken into account that maybe you guys were going to name your own child that," she replied, the effects of the eyeroll already in her tone.

Edward snorted, sarcastically. "They can keep it—I wouldn't give my kid a name from the dark ages, anyway. It's bad enough that it's mine."

"Well, you got to name him after someone in the family. It's tradition," Emmett added.

"_Have_ to," Rose corrected him, closing her eyes in irritation.

"Isabella the second," Edward answered, laughing just barely beneath his breath after I arched a cynical brow in his direction.

There was no way on this planet that I would name my child the same name my mother had given me.

Edward covered his hand over mine—that I'd left resting against his knee—and squeezed gently.

"Ugh," Rose groaned. "If the two of you have a girl, I will never speak to you again."

"Cheer up, babe. Only four weeks 'til EJ starts school," Emmett reminded her, reaching over to rub her shoulder, more suggestively than it should have appeared. "Then we can try again for a girl," he added slyly, winking for added measure, and I honestly thought Rose was going to ram her steak knife into his ear.

"Over my dead body," she declared, glaring at him darkly, before turning back to me. "My husband likes to conveniently forget that _I _was the one who gave birth to his twelve and a half pound offspring. Thank _god_ for epidurals."

"But you got to admit, babe, after they stitched you back up, everything was a lot . . . _tighter _down there," Emmett added, this time with a wicked smirk, just as Edward proceeded to choke on his meal.

Rose only took a stiff, measured breath, before releasing it into a low groan. "_Regardless,_" she said abruptly to me, almost appearing to smile, "I am _not_ doing that again."

I couldn't say I blamed her; she had essentially given birth to Emmett. In every sense of the word. Not that it was an entirely bad thing; EJ was adorable—that was undeniable. He had curly dark brown hair and the biggest royal blue eyes imaginable. Emmett's eyes.

Edward's father's eyes.

**. . .**

"Goodnight, Uncle Bludge! Goodnight, Aunty Bella!" EJ called from the other side of the common wall, as Edward and I were preparing for bed.

"Goodnight, EJ!" Edward and I called back in near unison, before I broke off to chuckle.

"Has he ever called you 'Uncle Edward'?" I asked, turning down the covers of the bed. Rose had added an extra blanket for me.

Smiling to himself wryly, Edward shook his head. "No—I doubt the kid is even aware that my name isn't actually 'bludge'. Emmett has been teaching him to call me that from the time he was a year old."

I paused, reflecting on it for a moment. Emmett was teasing Edward about me while we were apart? That seemed pretty insensitive—especially considering he knew the truth all along, but opted to omit it.

I frowned, before reaching up to cover my forehead with my palm. As much as Ang wanted me to talk about Edward while we were apart, she'd barely mentioned him. Perhaps because any mention of him felt like knives piercing my heart, revealing old wounds, so I wondered how Edward would have reacted, how it might have affected him.

"Why would Emmett tease you about me knowing . . . what he knew . . . ?" I breached the subject a moment later.

Pausing for a brief moment to contemplate it, Edward shrugged a shoulder, half rolling his eyes. "Fuck knows," he muttered, sighing shortly to himself before breaking my gaze.

With my expression all but mirroring Edward's, a sigh escaped me, before I became distracted by the repetitive thudding that was coming from the adjacent room. It broke the tension that threatened to descend upon us just as Edward broke into a smirk, glancing back over to me. "Are you completely sure you want to have kids?" he joked, tilting his head in reference to his rambunctious nephew who was clearly jumping on his bed.

Grinning, I opened my mouth to reply just as Emmett hollered from several rooms back. "EJ! GO TO SLEEP, OR MAMMA WILL CALL THE GOBLIN KING!"

Of course, this only made matters ten times worse. EJ began screeching out his panic driven objections, while in the master bedroom, Rose's patience severed.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Emmett—you are such an idiot!" she snapped, her voice becoming louder as she made her way to EJ's room. "Mamma is _not_ going to call the Goblin King!" she insisted, sounding completely insincere in her frustration.

"Do you promise?" was EJ's fearful, sceptical response, making Edward start chuckling behind his nose.

I threw the pillow at him.

"I_ promise_!" Rose practically strangled out the words, this time making me struggle to contain my laughter, before she banged loudly on the wall. "You pair are a glutton for punishment!"

**. . .**

"Are you sure_ you_ want to have kids?" I asked Edward lightly, after pulling the blankets over us, before reaching out and switching off the lamp and curling myself against his chest.

He took a breath, releasing it into a hum, before snaking his arm around my shoulders. "Yeah," he offered, simply.

Hesitating, I considered it more._ Did_ he want kids?

I don't think I'd ever asked him before—really asked him—whether it was something he wanted.

"Do you want a baby, or do you want to _give me_ a baby?" I asked, elaborating, a little more seriously.

This time he paused, contemplating it, before answering, "Both, I guess—I dunno. It wasn't something we got to plan like other couples. It was taken out of our hands—either we try for a baby now, while you're young, or never have one."

He sounded jaded, his tone full of regret, that it caused my heart to fracture that little bit more.

"Besides," he added, his tone lighter, nudging me from the threat of melancholy, "I wouldn't mind having a couple of mini Bellas around."

I smiled, pushing it quickly through my nose. "Why are you so certain that we're going to have girls?"

"Because you told me, woman," he joked warmly, before adding, "and those drawings are pretty convincing."

His words took no more than two seconds to register when I suddenly faltered, my heart stuttering at the very idea of it.

He knew about the drawings?

"Fuck. . ." Edward suddenly muttered, validating that he, in fact, _did _know about them.

"You saw them . . . ?" I asked, reluctantly, beginning to be plagued by anxiety. The drawings, what I had seen—what I had experienced, I knew how it sounded, and I knew Edward wasn't likely to be very receptive to it.

"Yeah. . ." he admitted, before his hand released mine to drag back through his hair. "I'm sorry, baby. I wasn't snooping or anything—I caught the fleabag trying to make off with them."

I was only partially listening as the panic building within me increased, before my thoughts probed back through the contents of the sketch book; of Kel and the girls. . . How did he handle seeing it?

Taking an inevitable breath in, I opened my mouth to respond when Edward gently nudged me. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"You know why," I answered, my tone almost becoming wry.

Inhaling heavily, he hummed in reply, conceding, before half rolling on me to press his lips tenderly against mine for a moment. "It's . . . just hard for me to get my head around, but I never wanted you to feel . . . embarrassed, or anything."

"I know," I murmured. I knew he wanted to press me more about it, but for obvious reasons was stalling. In the meantime, he was still almost flush on top of me. "Honey, I can't breathe."

He pulled his torso off me, before burying his face against my neck. "You can still talk to me about it. . ."

I sighed again, this time in resignation. "Okay, but promise you won't mock me."

"I promise I won't mock you," he replied lightly, the smile that I couldn't see on his face, clearly in his voice.

I elbowed him, frustrated by him and his propensity to tease me at the most insensitive of times, when he chuckled softly, breathily, before once more planting his lips against mine. "Bella—of course I won't mock you," he stated, his tone serious this time.

I couldn't talk to him when I couldn't see his face, so pushing him off me I stretched out to turn the lamp back on.

"Edward. . ." I complained, mumbling, before folding my arms across my chest.

"I promise," he assured me before snaking his arm around my shoulders and pulling me back against him. "You can talk to me. . ."

After a long moment of hesitation, where I talked myself out of it several times, I began—quickly becoming distracted as my thoughts wandered back to that night over a year ago now, "I thought it was a dream, but it was . . . more real than anything I'd ever experienced in my life." I glanced up and met the growing seriousness of his gaze. "More real than this very moment."

He nodded, his brow deeply furrowing.

"I was in . . . this place—a valley, surrounded by mountains, and there were colours there—these vibrant colours that I've never seen before. And everything, from every blade of grass to the wind against my face, seemed alive. I mean, as if it had its own consciousness."

Edward didn't speak; he only continued listening, while I almost recoiled from his expression. He was becoming disturbed, almost pained.

I continued, my eyes focused on my hands that I was wringing repeatedly in my lap. "Kel was there, and she was with a little girl who had a strange name, and when I asked about her name, Kel told me"—my voice softly broke, and I paused for a moment, needing to pull myself quickly together—". . . it was because _I_ hadn't named her."

"Oh, baby. . ." Edward uttered, his eyes suddenly burning, only he appeared uncertain. As if he wasn't sure how to respond.

Shaking my head, I cleared my throat roughly, forcing the emotion from my voice. "I've forgotten what her name was now. It was almost . . . foreign, but Kel had a nickname for her. _Snot _. . . I think." And at the memory of it, I broke into a knowing smile.

"Snot?" Edward echoed, his tone dubious, but at the same time, lightening in amusement. "Is that an Australian thing?"

I whacked him. "Stop it!"

He chuckled gently, before nudging me. "I'm sorry. Go on. . ."

I sighed, quirking my brow at him cynically, before I proceeded, "There was a baby there was well. She was . . . no more than a couple of months old. She couldn't sit up yet."

I glanced up at him, and he nodded, his eyes holding mine sedately. "I remember the drawings you did of her," he confessed, quietly.

"Her name was _Greer_. Kel told me _you'd _name her. _Did _you . . . ?" I put it to him, delicately, watching as his expression faltered, and recognition sparked in his eyes.

"Yeah. . ." he eventually admitted, releasing his breath in a surrendering gush, before reaching up and rubbing his brow laboriously. "But, baby, you drew all these pictures of me, from times . . . from times when we weren't together."

I nodded. "I saw you, Edward—or more, I was shown you. Every aspect of your life. I saw you drunk out of your mind in that cheap hotel room after I had the first miscarriage, and I saw you when we were apart"—I grabbed his hand, cradling it between both of mine—"You were _so _broken. . . I recognised that look in your eyes. I knew it _intimately_. You were mirroring me."

He broke my gaze, almost as if he was shying away from me, that all too familiar darkness encompassing upon his face. He only nodded, humming, and I wasn't sure whether it was to himself or in response to me. He appeared to be processing everything, struggling with it, and when he eventually turned back to me it was with confusion more than anything else. "Baby, how _the hell_ did you learn to draw like that?"

I smiled, at the sheer bewilderment of his expression, or the fact that I had no answers, I wasn't sure.

"I have no idea," I said simply, shaking my head to myself in confusion as I spoke it. "I just had all these images in my head, day and night. They threatened to completely monopolise my every thought unless I got them out, and I started having this desire to draw them. When you were on night shift, I stayed up putting them onto paper. I rarely slept, and it came so effortlessly. Then gradually, I started to feel a sense of . . . closure. To separate everything, and put it behind me so I could start moving forward again."

"Can you still draw like that?" he asked me after a moment where he only stared intently at me, his expression remaining hesitant.

"Sure." I shrugged a shoulder. "I still do."

"Fuck. . ." he mumbled, and again I was unsure what he was trying to express.

"What?" I coaxed him, softly.

He shook his head, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "Nothing . . . I just . . . don't really like thinking about what happened. . ."

"I know," I murmured, resting my chin on his shoulder. And I did, because the image of Edward alone in that little glassed in room, completely broken and defeated was something that would never leave me. Whether it was all just a dream or not.

He was quiet for a several moments, lost in his own thoughts, before he turned his head and planted his lips against my brow. "When they brought you in, baby, I saw the look on the emergency doctor's face. It was as if he was saying 'how the fuck am I going to get her back?'. They told me you shouldn't have survived, that it was virtually impossible to survive that amount of blood loss. I knew anyway. I rode in the ambulance with you. I saw how bad you were. . ." He pulled back to meet my gaze; his eyes igniting. "I remember when . . . A-Alice was so close to death. How she looked. You were _worse_."

"Honey," I whispered, placing my palm against his cheek, shaking my head gently, "don't. . . You know I'd never leave you."

Releasing his breath in an inevitable gush, Edward pulled me fully against his chest. For a moment I closed my eyes, content to just listen to the steady beat of his heart, before I broke into a small smile.

"Kel told me something about how you broke the rules to come back with me. You weren't supposed to, but you refused to listen."

He broke into an immediate chuckle, rocking us both with it, as his mood instantly reversed. "Yeah, that sounds like me. So, we already knew each other in Middle Earth, did we?"

I pulled back off his chest to gauge him, exasperated. "Are you kidding me?"

He laughed this time, half beneath his breath, and trying his damnedest to charm me, before he curved his palm around my hip and coaxed me back against him. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, the laughter still thick in his tone, before he added, "So does that mean we're soul mates?"

I scoffed, whacking him before I wrapped my arm around his waist, settling back against him. "Cheeseball."

**. . .**

We arrived at the fertility clinic early the next day. Neither of us got much sleep, and I was too full of anticipation to wait.

Edward parked in the MacDonald's car park that was directly across the road from the clinic, and we ate breakfast before our appointment. He didn't speak much, and I was too lost in my own thoughts to offer anything by way of conversation; though, I barely severed contact with him. He was the only person who could keep me anchored, and today was no exception. I needed that sense of assurance from him, because by the time we exited the elevator to the reception of Dr Stewart's office, I was feeling almost sick with trepidation.

"We have an 8:30 appointment to see Dr Stewart," I informed the receptionist, who smiled at me before opening the schedule on her computer.

"Mr and Mrs Cullen?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Dr Stewart is expecting you. Take a seat; he shouldn't be long."

The waiting area was near to full, and as I scanned the various couples, sharing polite, empathetic smiles, it became obvious that Edward and I were easily the youngest couple in the room. I wasn't sure if that meant anything, but the very idea of going through this process when we were well into our thirties made my heart sink.

For these poor unfortunate couples, or Edward and me, I wasn't sure.

"Want me to get you a magazine or something, baby?" Edward whispered in my ear a couple of minutes after we'd sat down. He was already so restless, that I suspected he needed a reason to keep himself occupied.

"Yeah," I replied.

He returned with a parenting magazine. I only gazed up at him, unsure whether it had been deliberate or not. He sat back beside me, seeming confused by my reaction, that I assumed it hadn't been.

"Edward. . ." I sighed, holding it up in emphasis.

"_Oh_!" Recognition suddenly sparked in his eyes before he broke into a conceding grin. "Good omen?"

And despite myself I broke into a smile, shaking my head lightly to myself, before I began flipping through the pages.

Pregnancy, pregnancy, childbirth, newborns, babies. . .

"Mr and Mrs Cullen?"

I looked up to find a grey-haired man, wearing a typical white coat, standing in the doorway to his office with a jovial smile on his face.

Grabbing my hand, Edward practically yanked me out of the chair to my feet, before we were led into the consultation room.

After introducing himself and exchanging pleasantries, then showing me and Edward the hundreds of baby photos that adorned all the spare wall spaces of his office, Dr Stewart opened a file he had laying in front of him, placed a pair of reading glasses on the edge of his nose, and began reading.

"What clinic was this?" he spoke up, his tone alluding to disbelief, as he turned over several pages looking for the answer.

From what I could see he was reading Carlisle's referral notes, and included was several of my records from the previous clinic.

Edward answered, his voice restricting as he spoke it, and after appraising him for a moment the doctor shook his head.

"Dear me. . ." he said with a sigh, before meeting my gaze easily and offering up a reassuring smile. "I can assure you, Mrs Cullen, you have nothing of the kind to fear here. And while I cannot promise you any babies, we're going to do all we can to help you get one—or a dozen." He winked, before raising from his chair and motioning me to the bed.

He prodded and poked me, took my blood pressure, and drew blood, as he kept me talking and told me jokes, while including Edward in the conversation.

Okay, drawing blood from me wasn't as easy as it sounds. It took Edward on one side of me, practically holding me down, with Dr Stewart on the other, making me laugh as a distraction before hastily inserting the needle into my vein when I least expected it. He took three test tubes of it, explaining how he needed to check my "ovarian reserves", and other hormones, as well as checking my immunity to Rubella.

After he was done, and feeling slightly woozy, I sat back down in the chair opposite his desk, clinging to Edward's hand for my life, and answered the various questions from his check list. He was incredibly easy going, and he spoke about the process in the context as if he fully expected me to have a baby at the end of it. He explained how fresh transfers often worked for some women, while frozen for others, and confessed to his unusually high record for producing twins from a single transferred embryo. He also joked that he was going to put me so far under for the egg retrieval, it'd be enough to knock out an elephant.

It was what I needed to hear the most.

"Considering you have such an irregular cycle, I'll check your hormone levels to see if we can get you started on the down regulations straight away," he explained, writing out a list as he did, and handing it to me along with a stack of papers, before he moved several forms before me and Edward to sign. "Mrs Reed, my receptionist, will call you this afternoon with the results. If you're good to go, I want you to start tomorrow morning. See her on the way out and give her these forms for the Buserelin." He stood up, extending his hand to both me and Edward, his smile turning to a broad grin before he led us to the door. "All things going well, I'll see you back here in two weeks to get an ultra-sound and hopefully start you on the Gonal-F." And taking my hand once more, he squeezed it, before Edward and I left the room.

Taking a momentous breath, I released it, reaching out for Edward, who wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. I was as equally overwhelmed as I was brimming with optimism, and perhaps this was the reason why neither Edward nor I noticed something was amiss.

After handing the various paperwork to Mrs Reed, she disappeared into a storeroom, returning a couple of minutes later with a large paper cooler bag holding the down regulation injections. After signing off that I'd received it, Edward and I left, and it wasn't until we were halfway back to Emmett and Rose's house that it suddenly occurred to both of us that we hadn't filled out a single insurance or billing form. Or had been asked for any payment for the consultation or course of Buserelin.

"Maybe you pay after every phase here, and not before," Edward speculated, not sounding very convinced himself.

I shook my head, full of doubt. "Just to be sure, I'll call when we get home. I don't want Dr Stewart to think we're trying to rip them off!"

Naturally, Edward found this statement amusing, quickly pushing it through his nose before it turned to laughter.

"Edward—seriously?" I huffed. "How is that funny?"

He chuckled, still failing to fully supress it beneath his breath. "Baby, I don't think they think we're trying to pull off a fertility clinic heist."

"You're always mocking me. . ." I sighed, turning to him and breaking into a reluctant smile despite myself.

He smiled back, full of that all-knowing charisma of his, but seeped with warmth at the same time, and stopping at a red light, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on my lips. "It's going to work this time, baby. I can feel it."

**. . . **

After lunch with Rose and Emmett at their house, sans EJ—he was at day care—Edward and I returned to Forks. Edward had switched to night shift that week with a guy from his team, so he could make the appointment with me, and we had to get back in time for him to get ready.

We arrived home at just after 5pm, and by 5:30, when I hadn't heard back from Dr Stewart, I called his receptionist. I got her voicemail, and left a short message. I wasn't too concerned; on the way out this morning Mrs Reed had informed us she was in until six tonight.

"Bella, stop worrying; she'll call!" Edward confidently assured me, as he came up from the basement, buttoning his EMS shirt over his semi damp chest. "Then I get to jab you again," he teased me, flashing me a wicked smirk, before wrapping his arm around my neck to kiss my cheek.

I only flashed him a semi feigned scowl, shoving him playfully off me, before heading to the kitchen to get his dinner packed for that night. Five minutes later my phone rang; I was pouring beef soup into a flask for Edward, and almost burnt myself.

"Hello," I answered, breathlessly, and with too much anticipation.

"Mrs Cullen?" the kind voice of Dr Stewart's receptionist asked from the other end.

"Yes."

"I have your blood work back, dear. I'm sorry for the delay. It's been crazy here today."

"No, that's fine."

"Okay, well your hormones are a little low, suggesting you're at the very beginning of a cycle or you haven't started one yet. Dr Stewart would like you to delay the down injections for about a week—say next Monday the 28th?"

Ten days from today. . .

"Okay," I agreed with a sigh, failing to hide my disappointment.

"Good, and while I'm here, I'll book you in for two weeks after, for your ultra-sound. I have the 12th free. Is that okay?"

"That's fine."

"Okay, dear, see you then. Have a pleasant evening."

"You too," I replied, hanging up, just as Edward popped his head around the doorway.

"So . . . ?" he asked, his eyebrows raised high.

"It's too early to start tomorrow. He wants us to start next Monday." I shrugged.

"Awww, baby. . ." He pouted, teasing me gently, before pulling me against him for a moment. "It'll give you some time to psyche yourself into all the injections."

I laughed humourlessly. "More time to freak myself out, more likely." And pulling back I helped him thread his belt through the loops of his pants, buckling it up.

"You're not going to be all mopey on me, now are you, buttercup?" He flashed me that altogether too charming grin of his, as he tucked his shirt further into his belted pants.

I rolled my eyes, forcing the building blush back behind the cynical expression I threw at him. He still held way too much power over me, after all. "Would you stop being a pain in the ass!"

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk once more growing across his face. "Will I stop being a pain in the '_arse'_?"

"Oh my god," I mumbled lightly, shaking my head before I grabbed his packed lunch box and flask from the bench, shoving them into his chest, teasingly. "Go to work. I'd like ten hours without you mocking me."

He laughed lightly to himself for a moment, before recollection hit him. "You forgot to ask about the payment, didn't you," he reminded me.

"Shoot! I did," I admitted. "I'll call her back in a minute."

"Or maybe we could _rip them off." _And just like that, back was all the teasing charm of his, wrapped up in a toothy askew grin.

I only dropped my forehead to my palm and groaned, before Edward, barely supressing his laughter, wrapped his arm around me and led me to the front door. "Come and walk me out, you pain in the _arse_."

**. . .**

After being practically molested by my husband on the front porch, I watched Edward's truck disappear down the drive, an involuntary smile curving on my lips, before heading back into the kitchen. After grabbing my phone, I called back Mrs Reed.

"Dr Stewart's office, Victoria Reed speaking," she answered on the third ring.

"Hi, Mrs Reed, it's Isabella Cullen. We spoke a few minutes ago."

"Mrs Cullen—how can I help you?"

"I'm just wondering, since I wasn't billed this morning for the down injections, how the payment system works?"

There was a pause, before she replied, sounding suddenly uncertain. "Payments are made prior to any consultations or procedures, that includes all medications—but I was certain your file is marked with payment already paid. One moment, dear." I was placed on hold for roughly thirty seconds before she spoke again, the confusion thicker in her tone this time, "Mrs Cullen, our records show that you are paid in full for one cycle and up to six frozen transfers, with all costs covered. . ."

For a moment my mind went completely blank, before I could find my voice to respond. "Excuse me . . . ?"

Did Edward already take care of the payment, and just not tell me? No, he would have told me. There'd be no reason for him to hide it from me.

"I'm taking you weren't aware of this, dear," Mrs Reed stated, before sighing softly into the receiver.

"N-no, not at all," I stammered, as my mind continued to race for answers. Only I had none. "Can you tell me who made the payment?"

"I process all the payments, so it should be on record," she explained. "Give me one moment and I'll check, dear." I was placed on hold for longer this time, and when she returned what she revealed made my blood run cold. "It was paid by check, on the 9th this month, dear. Made out to an M A Hale."

Alice.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know. Don't hate me.**  
**Thanks for reading and leave me some love, but only if you loved it.**  
**MWAH xoxo**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: One more chapter down, and I'm not exactly sure how many to go. I try not to think about it, but we'll get there, peeps.  
I just want to add, in light of the US elections, which threw me a bit off track by how nuts social media went (I tried to calm shit down and ended up stuck in the middle of two warring sides, a few times. Yikes) I want to say I love you all regardless. I know passions are high at the mo, so if you're happy with the outcome, or devastated, you have my congrats or my condolences.  
MWAH xoxo**

* * *

**Chapter 29**

**Edward's POV**

I got home just after eight in the morning the next day, and the moment I walked through the back door I knew something was wrong.

The kitchen was a mess.

It appeared as though Bella had gone to bed without doing the dishes, but that just didn't happen. On her worst day, Bella was a neat freak. She didn't leave the house until she'd cleaned up after the two of us, and she sure as hell wouldn't go to bed without cleaning up after dinner.

I made my way upstairs, with the fleabag beside me, slobbering all over me like the needy little shit he was, but I was more concerned about Bella than I wanted to admit. She was usually up by this time; when I was on a later shift she'd get up before I got home and have breakfast waiting for me. She liked to eat with me before going to the restaurant, and would get either Sue or Angela to open up.

But when I pushed open the bedroom door, I was met with our unmade bed and no Bella.

Frowning, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Bella had texted me the night before just after ten to tell me "goodnight", but that was it. Nothing to let me know she was going in to work earlier this morning.

Not a fucking peep, and that wasn't like her, either.

I hit "call", but after it rang out, it was picked up by her message bank, and by this time I was becoming frustrated. I called the restaurant directly.

"Kel's Diner," Angela answered.

"Hey, Ang, is Bella there?"

"Um, yeah. . ." her voice immediately hushed, as if she was trying to be discreet. "She's serving today. Let me go grab her."

"Hey, honey," Bella spoke quickly a moment later, but she sounded . . . strange. "I'm sorry about this morning. It's . . . kind of busy in here." And fucking stranger.

I groaned beneath my breath that quickly became fucking audible. "Bella. . ." I began, but I didn't know how to put it into words, because I seriously fucking doubted it would go down well if I asked her why she'd left the house a mess, or didn't have breakfast waiting for me. Not to mention making me sound like a selfish fucking prick, but this shit just wasn't like her.

"Edward," she sighed, "can we talk later? I'll see you at home tonight."

At home tonight? She didn't want me to have dinner with her later—or come and help out?

And just as I was about to point this out to her, she fucking hung up on me.

For a moment I only continued to hold the phone against my ear, scoffing in fucking disbelief, but I had to get to the bottom of this shit. I wasn't going to accept anything else going wrong. I fucking refused.

After waiting a few minutes, I called back the restaurant, sighing inwardly in relief when Angela again answered it.

"Ang, it's me again—listen, what the hell is going on with Bella?" I blurted, and she didn't sound too surprised. If anything she was in full fucking understanding.

She sighed deeply, heavily into the receiver, before she once more hushed her voice. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Hang on, let me go into the storeroom." I heard the rustling of her movement, before her voice came through the phone again, this time in a near whisper. "As far as I knew, Sue and I were opening up this morning, but by the time we arrived Bella was already here, and she looked like she was about to murder someone. She won't talk about it, though, and when I asked she practically bit my head off."

"Jesus," I muttered, dragging my fingers back through my hair, before dropping my hand almost subconsciously back down to the fleabag as I racked my fucking mind for possible answers.

"She's so tense and uptight that I thought you guys got bad news at the clinic," Angela continued to relay, sounding more and more concerned. "Only she texted me yesterday around lunch time to tell me everything had gone really well."

"It did. Okay . . . _fuck_. . ." I paused, reaching up to rub my brow with my fingertips, feeling suddenly fucking on edge. "I'll be there in a few minutes, and for god's sake, don't tell her I'm coming."

Five minutes later I pulled up in front of the restaurant, parking at the rear of the lot, so Bella wouldn't see me coming. She was too fucking good at shutting me out when shit turned bad with us, and while I knew she didn't do it deliberately—that it was a defense mechanism for her—it was still a habit I had to break her from. Whether the little vixen liked it or not.

The moment I walked through the front entrance, I met Angela's gaze, who motioned with her head that Bella was in the kitchen. I found her a moment later savaging a slab of meat with a cleaver, looking fucking overrun with emotion—anger being just a part of it. Ang was right; something was seriously messing with her, and when she looked up and caught my eyes a second later, something in hers fractured, and it wasn't just that she was upset—she was—but she also seemed . . . fearful.

"Hey, baby. Do you want to talk?" I asked her, attempting to keep my tone light.

She only continued to glance at me, her eyes a fucking mystery to me, like they usually were. "Not right now, Edward. . ."

Stepping closer, I took the meat cleaver from her hand, then grabbing her other, I led her reluctantly out through the rear entrance. She didn't protest or fight me, but then again, she wasn't exactly willing, and when I closed the door behind us, she turned to face me, ripping her hand from my grip.

"I told you, Edward—I'm busy!"

"Busy?" I snapped, sarcastically. "Bella, there's two fucking people inside—and you promised me you wouldn't do this again!" I was getting angry, I could feel my face clouding, but the truth was I was fucking exhausted. Sick and fucking tired of all the shit that seemed determined to come between us.

She faltered, her mouth falling open, before she snapped it shut. "I-I'm not," she stammered, not sounding the least bit fucking convincing.

"So what's going on, Bella?" I asked, the tone of it sounding more like an accusation, and I knew I had to get a handle on it, because when I got angry at her, she got angrier. "And if you tell me it's 'nothing' I'm. . ." Fuck it, I let it go. It was fucking hard, but she sure as hell didn't make things easy.

"You're . . . _what_?" she challenged me, arching an eyebrow at me.

"Jesus, you're a fucking brat," I muttered, dragging my gaze from hers, becoming a lot more pissed off than I was concerned.

"And you're an asshole, who is too damn good at being over-BEARING!" she retorted, through practically clenched teeth before she lost it. "I just need some bloody time, Edward. Can you give me that? _Fucking hell_!"

She turned to go back inside, but I grabbed her arm, turning her back to me. "Time for _what_, Bella? How the fuck do you expect me to give you _anything_, when you insist on keeping me in the fucking dark all the time?" I demanded, before, knowing it was becoming a lost fucking cause, I released her. "You're fucking killing me—you know that?"

She only gazed at me, as if it was as equally as fucking gut wrenching on her, before she turned her head, cupping her hand to her brow, her expression almost completely breaking. "You take it all on, Edward—as soon as something is bothering me. . ." she began, her voice quiet, before she huffed, sounding frustrated more than anything. "You won't allow me to deal with anything on my own."

"Because that's not how I work, Bella," I reminded her. "You _know _that."

"I _know_," she once again met my eyes, her expression becoming more and more compromised, "and it drives me nuts!"

"What—_WHAT!_?" I demanded, but I wasn't even sure what I was asking this time, because let's face it, half the time I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on.

"I need time to figure it out," she attempted to explain it to me, those huge eyes of hers staring up at me, fucking pleading with me, "because if I react badly, you'll be ten times worse."

"Jesus, Bella, what the hell happened?" And this time it was me who was pleading with her, the fear suddenly returning to my fucking chest.

She shook her head, as tears slowly filled her eyes. "I-I'm just not sure I want to go ahead with the IVF this time."

"Bullshit!" I blurted, before I even really thought about it. "Fucking_ bullshit_."

"Give me your keys," she suddenly demanded, thrusting her hand out, that for a moment I only gazed blankly at her.

"What? What for?"

"Just_ give_ them to me, Edward!" she repeated, lowly, fucking seriously, before she plunged her hand into the front pocket of my pants and retrieved them herself.

"What do you want my keys for?" I asked her, confused this time and becoming more irritated by it.

"To stop you from driving off like a mad man again," she answered straight out, while appearing to gauge me.

And then I fucking got it. The last time this shit happened was because of my sister and her piece of shit fucking husband.

Taking a stiff, barely measured breath, I cleared my throat roughly, feeling my anger immediately begin to boil over. "What have they done?" I asked, slowly, darkly.

"Guess," she replied, her voice this time bitter and seeped with sarcasm.

"Bella—what? Just fucking tell me!" I burst, becoming impatient on top of fucking everything else.

"They're _paying for_ our baby," she answered, before she completely cracked and opened up to me. "And I don't want to do it anymore, Edward—I don't want _your sister_ having any kind of ownership of our _children!"_

For the longest moment, I only stared at her, unsure I could grasp her fucking meaning, while feeling my entire body of muscles slowly tense in reflex. "What do you mean, '_they're paying for it'_?" I demanded fucking indignantly.

"That's why we haven't been billed for anything, because the entire cycle is paid for in advance," she explained, her voice catching softly, before turning and sitting down in one of the chairs, dropping her head in her hands. "I just can't do this anymore, Edward." She sounded so defeated and lost that it was threatening to shred me, but at the same time I was beginning to become fucking flooded with anger.

For the next minute I paced, drawing my breath forcefully back through my nose in a feeble attempt to combat the building rage; my hands beginning to shake from the sheer force behind it. I couldn't comfort Bella at the moment, I couldn't even look at her, because I knew that seeing firsthand how my family's actions were continuing to fuck with her, would eventually push me over the edge.

The fucking arrogance of Alice to insert herself into something that was so deeply fucking personal between me and Bella. To assume she had the fucking right to continue to interfere. And knowing Alice she would hold it against me; there'd come a time in my life when she'd remind me, she tell me that if it wasn't for her we wouldn't have any kids. And I couldn't allow that to fucking happen.

Ever.

"Okay, I'm going to put an end to this—once and fucking for all," I spoke quietly, calmly; though, I was fucking far from it.

Bella looked up at me, her face tear-streaked, her expression alarmed. "What are you going to do?" she asked, almost shying away from me. This was what she feared, after all, but it was always going to come down to it.

I had to put an _end _to this bullshit!

Without answering her, I glanced away, my mind already racing ahead of me on what I needed to do. This started with Carlisle, because only Carlisle would have had access to Bella's medical records and the treatment she was getting.

"Edward," Bella said more insistently. She was on her feet now, pulling on my arm. "Come inside and I'll make you breakfast. I don't want you doing anything too impulsive," she was pleading with me, but I was unmoved; I only shook my head.

"I have to take care of this first, baby," I answered, distracted, my gaze on everything but her. I couldn't look at her and see the pain this shit was causing her. Not for another fucking moment.

Without another word, I pulled from her arms, attempting to walk back to the car, but she held onto me, until I was practically dragging her.

"This is what I was talking about, Edward!" she burst, angrily, full of frustration, while the sobs choked in her throat. "I didn't want to tell you right away, but you always force things out of me—STOP!"

I turned to her, grabbing her arms and prying her hands free from me. "I have to take care of this, Bella—I have to fucking fix it, because I am_ not_ going to be living like this for the next twenty fucking years!" I was so pissed off I sounded irrational, I knew it, and I knew it was scaring her, but I couldn't help it. I was fucking _done _with this shit.

She only glanced up at me, her expression full of condemnation, while her eyes were fucking stricken; as if it was me who was causing her all this fucking heart ache. Then without a word, she turned and walked back inside the restaurant, while I headed in the opposite direction, and it wasn't until I was a few feet from the truck that I realized what she'd done.

Shoving my hand into my pocket to grab my keys, I was met with emptiness; immediately remembering that Bella had taken them from me. She'd taken them from me because she knew me too fucking well.

"Fuck," I muttered, dragging my hand back through my hair in a fit of impatience, as I gazed back toward the restaurant. Then, taking a resigned fucking breath, I turned and headed back inside, going through the rear entrance this time.

I found Bella back in the kitchen, chopping vegetables; her focus seemingly fully on it, as tears spilled silently down her face.

Bowing my head, beginning to feel fucking drained, I released my breath, before leaning up against the counter, watching her for a moment. She was aware of my presence; though, she didn't look at me. She just continued chopping up the fucking carrots looking completely fucking miserable.

At that moment, Angela walked in carrying a stack of dishes and the latest order that she stuck to the hood of the exhaust with a magnet. This is when she noticed Bella—and me, for that matter.

Pausing for a fraction, looking uncertain, she gently placed her hand on Bella's shoulder. "You okay, B?"

Bella only nodded a little too quickly, inhaling her breath back through her nose, before she clumsily wiped her eyes, and my heart fractured that little bit fucking more.

Angela met my eyes, signaling that she was going to leave us alone. I nodded, throwing her an awkward fucking smile, before she quietly left the room.

My gaze fell back to Bella, this beautiful fucking woman, who was the air I breathed, and who was once the broken girl I used to know. The girl whose eyes were overrun by a thousand years of pain, but who tried every day to smile through it, regardless. The very first, and only girl, who I'd ever loved, and here she was ten years later, still in so much pain. And I still couldn't handle it any better than I did when I was eighteen.

Taking a single step over to her, I pulled her gently into my arms, against my chest. She didn't resist; in fact, she went completely fluid against me, her fists clutching the material of my shirt, before she almost literally fucking broke apart.

"I'm so tired, Edward," was all she spoke, in barely a whisper, before she buried her face against my chest and sobbed. She sobbed so fucking softly, it was as if she was making every effort to hold it in, but was losing anyway.

It was fucking crippling me, splintering my rationality—but I held it together, because I knew my reaction, my actions, would be more detrimental to her. I had to be that husband I'd promised her I'd be when we got married. To protect her, and look after her, without allowing anything or anyone to come between us.

Right now I wasn't keeping that promise, but I vowed that ended today.

It ended right this fucking minute.

I held her to me until she eventually went quiet, before cupping my hands to each side of her face, I tilted her head to meet my eyes. "I'm going to fix this, baby, but I want you to trust me. I'm not going to do anything stupid," I promised her, deadly serious, even as my tone fucking wavered.

Taking a deep, heavy breath, she nodded, before her eyes dropped to my chest, where she smoothed down my shirt.

"So, are you going to give me my keys back?" I asked, lightly teasing her, until she broke into an almost cynical smile.

Pulling my keys from her apron, she handed them to me, before bowing her forehead against my chest. "_Promise me,_ Edward."

"I promise you, Baby. I'm going to call Carlisle and get this payment cancelled, and then I'm going to bed." I'd been awake from more than twenty-four hours after all.

She nodded again, before reaching up on her toes to press her lips against my neck.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, pulling back to gauge me.

I shook my head, breaking into a warm smile. "Not really." And I wasn't. I was too fucking agitated to eat.

She made me a coffee anyway, to go, and then walked me back to the car, where she once more pleaded with me not to do anything stupid. She was serious, the concern on her face genuine, that I wondered what I'd become. The same angry little prick that I used to be?

I turned her to me, before wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and pulling her against me. "Baby . . . seriously, I'm too fucking shattered to do anything at the moment," I mumbled, before dropping my lips on top of her head and releasing my breath.

"Promise me anyway," she murmured against the base of my throat, before she pulled back, her eyes deadly fucking serious. "Stay calm, and don't do anything without calling me first."

I broke into a wide smile, almost subconsciously. "I promise, you pain in the ass. Now go back inside."

Smiling back at me, in that all knowing cynical way of hers, she shook her head lightly to herself, before stretching up to kiss me quickly.

"Later, gator," she said lightly, before turning and heading back to the restaurant.

"I love you, snot!" I called after her a moment later.

She half turned back, glancing at me over her shoulder; her smile broadening. "Stop being so sappy."

**. . .**

I dialed Carlisle's number the second I parked the truck in the garage. He answered on the second ring, sounding fucking pleased to hear from me.

"Edward, what can I do for you?"

"I'm going to ask you something, Carlisle, and I don't want to hear any bullshit," I spoke, stiffly, as I walked toward the house.

"Okay. . ." he answered after a pause.

"Did you arrange for Alice to pay for Bella's fertility treatment?"

He paused again, sealing his fucking guilt, before sighing heavily into the receiver. "I was expecting this conversation."

"What does that mean?" I demanded, slamming the back door behind me, and throwing my keys on the kitchen table.

"Alice told me she'd spoken to you about it—," he began when I broke in, scoffing sarcastically.

"And you believed her, did you?"

"Well, you reaching out to me was something of a miracle, Edward. I thought you'd decided to reconcile with your sister, as well," he explained.

"The _only _reason I 'reached out to you', _Carlisle_, was because I thought you could help Bella, but I should have fucking known it was never going to be that simple."

He sighed again. "Edward, listen to me. It's not how you think it is. After you explained what had happened at the fertility clinic, Alice wanted to help. She felt she owed you something, and since you were allowing me to help her, she thought it would extend to her, as well. I did ask her to get your approval first, though."

I laughed, fucking bitterly. "_My approval_. . . How did she even know about it?"

"Your mother told her."

"Of course," I spat.

"I can understand why you're so offended by this, Edward, but your mother has made every effort to stay out of your life, while hoping you can still forgive her."

"_Forgive her_,_"_ I mocked. "It wasn't just some trivial mistake she made, Carlisle. It was fucking premeditated. She knew exactly what she was doing, she just never gave a shit about the consequences behind it—meaning, what it fucking did to me, and what it did to Bella!"

"You're still mad about it. I understand," he said, only something behind his tone sounded really fucking patronizing. As if he felt I was overreacting.

"Well, I'm terribly fucking sorry if me being mad about how you all conspired against me for six fucking years, still pisses me off—eighteen months later."

"Edward, you're married to Bella now. Don't you think it's time you let go of it all? It can't be a good thing for you to constantly carry around all this anger," he spoke calmly, in that perpetual fucking tone as if every conversation in his life was a paid consultation. And all it did was piss me off more.

"I thought about it," I began through clenched teeth, fucking aggravated that I was even explaining myself, "but then I found out that my wife had been beaten, choked until she'd lost consciousness, then almost fucking raped by the same piece of shit that I'd protected her from when I was a kid. Do you remember that? How you and Mom then sent me off to get fucking therapy at a camp for 'special needs kids'?"

"Yes, I remember," he answered, quietly, "and I'm sorry Edward. I had no idea such a thing had ever happened to Bella."

"Alice knew—what, she didn't tell you? Maybe her fucking guilt got the better of her."

"Perhaps," he conceded, before he sighed for the tenth fucking time in a minute. "Edward, I can assure you, your mother never intended to keep it going for six years. We assumed that when Bella returned from Australia, she'd get into contact with you again."

"Well, obviously that didn't happen—listen, Carlisle, I'm sick to fucking death of having this same conversation over and over again. I'm _sick of it! _This is going to fucking stop—so pass it on to Alice—because if it doesn't I'm going to get Rose to draw me up a cease and desist order. And I'm not fucking bluffing!"

"Edward. . ." he began, before seeming to abandon it, not that I knew what the fuck he wanted to express. "Would you like me to cancel the payment?"

"No, I can do that myself," I stated.

"So . . . you're telling me that you're not going to consider a reconciliation with your mother anymore?"

"That's right," I replied, without an ounce of emotion in my voice, "and if you want someone to blame, take it up with my sister."

I hung up before he could say another word, and in a fit of anger, I threw the phone toward the sofa in the living room. It bounced off and hit the floor, and I was positive I heard the fucking thing crack.

Fucking groaning, I went to retrieve it before the little shit of a hairball made off with it; the screen was now a cobweb of cracks, and pissed off, this time at my own stupidity, I dialed Rose's number.

"Hey, brother in law. What's up?" she asked, before half covering the receiver to yell at EJ, and despite myself, I broke into a grin.

"Hey, Rose—listen, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Can you put the fear of God into my sister?"

There was a static sound through the receiver as if she'd snorted her breath through her nose. "Of course I can. What's she done now?"

"She decided to pay for Bella's fertility treatment," I answered flatly.

"You're kidding! How the hell did they—wait, let me guess; Carlisle."

"Yep."

"Jesus . . . she really won't give up. . ."

"That's where you come in," I elaborated, my tone hardening, "because if I have to deal with her directly, I'll fucking strangle her."

"Okay, leave it to me, and don't worry, I'll put more than the fear of God into her," she promised me, her tone going sly.

I was counting on it.

The last phone call I made was to Victoria at the fertility clinic, and without going into too much detail, I successfully managed to get her to cancel the current payment. Then after giving her my credit card details for the first consultation, the down injection prescription and all future expenses, I was fucking finished.

After feeding the fleabag, I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich, then after stacking the dishwasher and cleaning the countertops, I dragged my ass upstairs and into the shower. By this point I was dead on my feet, and after leaving my shattered phone downstairs, I flopped down on top of the bed and crashed.

I was woken three hours later by banging on the front door, and after almost being knocked down the stairs by the fur ball, as the little shit tried to get passed me, I reefed it open.

It was Bella's uncle.

"Sorry to bother you, Edward. Bella sent me to check on you. She's been trying to get in contact with you for a couple of hours," he explained, looking sheepish and glancing away, before I realized I was still wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Oh, crap . . . yeah I forgot to charge my phone," I explained, so dead on my fucking feet, I was swaying.

"Okay, I'll let her know," he replied, extending his hand, because that's how every interaction ended with Chief Swan. "Go back to sleep."

"Thanks, Chief," I mumbled, stepping aside to close the door, when he turned back to me.

"How are you guys going?" he asked, before quickly explaining, "I mean, I know the first year can be pretty rough, without the added problems the two of you are having."

I paused, hesitating for a moment; this sort of thing was pretty left field for him. "Uh, yeah, we're going okay."

He appeared to reflect on it a moment, before he smiled. "Well, good. . ."

I only watched him as he stepped down the stairs and headed to the police cruiser that was sitting in the driveway, wanting to scratch my head in confusion.

What the fuck was that all about?

Did he think Bella and I were unhappy? Were we becoming a reflection of the kind of shit that had been constantly happening—that had happened today? Shit that made us angry and miserable—at life in general, but at times, at each other.

Was this how we appeared to him? To everyone?

* * *

**I was sure this chapter was originally longer. Ugh. . . Anywho do you give it a yay or a nay? Leave some love or rabid hate, or not, and I'll see you on the flip side. I hope. . .  
**SMOOCH****


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I'm sure this chapter wasn't originally this long, and that parts of it were in Bella's POV. Ugh, ugh, ugh, never forget to back up your docx, peeps. NEVER! I'm sure I'm screwing everything up, but live and learn.  
Anywho, I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, and/or Happy New Year. Love you guys.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 30**

**Edward's POV**

A week later, and after no further interference from my sister, her idiot husband or Carlisle and my mother, Bella started the course of down injections.

She was still as neurotic as ever over them, but she made an effort to suck it up this time. It didn't stop her from going completely rigid, her knuckles turning white as she bent over the bathroom sink, waiting for me to jab her, but she made no objections or attempted to stall.

"You're getting tougher in your old age, buttercup," I teased her before snapping back the elastic of her underwear against her skin.

She jolted, before turning to flash me that cynical smirk of hers, shoving me. "I'm beginning to think you're enjoying this," she remarked, before turning to head into our bedroom, rubbing the spot on the top of her ass where I'd just jabbed her, as she went.

"It'll all be worth it when you start throwing dog food cans at my head in the middle of the supermarket," I replied, wryly, following her.

She turned back to me, opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly faltered. "Oh God, don't remind me. I know how crazy and irrational I'm acting, but I can't stop it. Will you let me apologize in advance?" she offered, her eyebrows raising.

I grabbed her around the waist, pulling her onto the bed with me, before rolling my body on top of hers. "Only if you let me have my way with you a few more times before I have to 'preserve my sperm count'."

She released her breath, humming with it, as I dragged my face down the cleavage of her breasts, clothed in the sheer satin of her "nightie" – as she called it.

"Edward, do you think it'll work this time?" she murmured, but sounding distracted, as I inched up her nightgown, my lips connecting with her lower stomach, before I threaded my fingers through the same elastic waistband as I had a moment ago.

I paused, thinking about it for no longer than a second, before replying, "Yes, you pain in the ass. When we have kids we'll probably never have sex again, so shut up and enjoy it while it lasts."

Fuck. I really fucking hoped not!

The cycle went smoothly. Too fucking smoothly—textbook smooth, as if it was toying with us, fucking mocking us before it would insert its fucking fangs. Everything happened by the book. When Doctor Stewart wanted to up Bella's Gonal-F dosage, we got the message from his receptionist two minutes later. We increased it and Bella grew the "perfect" amount of "follicles". Every blood test came back without a single discrepancy. Her hormone levels were ideal. Everything was going so fucking well I was starting to feel like I was on tenterhooks, waiting for it to go south and bring us kicking and fucking screaming back down to reality. But it didn't; it went better than either of us could have imagined, and by the time Bella got through the egg retrieval—completely out under general anesthetic as the doctor promised her—we had nine healthy fertilized eggs ready to be implanted. Nine out of thirteen. Nine.

Fucking_ nine_.

The doc gave us the option of transferring two at a time—deliberately this time. It would increase the odds of one of them implanting, as well as giving us a chance of having twins. Twins were an ideal scenario for people with fertility problems. Get your family over and done with in one go, and never have to go through the abject fucking torture of IVF again.

"What would we do with the other seven?" was Bella's response, her eyes widening as her thoughts no doubt switched to the frozen bunch of cells that had taken so much blood, sweat and fucking tears to create.

"You can donate them—to another infertile couple, or to stem cell research," he suggested, just moments before Bella gasped, shaking her head adamantly. To the idea of someone else raising our biological children, or to them being sacrificed for medical advancements, I couldn't tell, but all of a sudden I was having nightmarish visions of me and Bella surrounded by all nine of the little fuckers, like the fucking Brady Bunch.

The doctor glanced from Bella to me, then back to Bella again before he chuckled. "I think we're jumping the gun here a bit. Let's just focus on getting that positive pregnancy test first, and then we'll go from there."

Bella nodded, her sweaty hand squeezing further around mine, before she turned to me, her brows raising in question. "Should we try two?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

I nodded, shrugging simultaneously. "Sure, why not," I replied, before swallowing thickly.

We suddenly needed to have that conversation that normal fucking couples had. How many kids we wanted.

All I'd been hoping, and fucking praying for, these last few months was one. One kid. One and possibly a spare—if the first one turned into . . . me. . .

But Bella—the Bella who'd had a near death experience so vivid it had turned her faith into something that was now dictating her life—as well as mine—would never agree to disposing of any leftovers. To her everyone one of those three-celled clusters was a baby, no more or less than my sister's creepy looking twins.

Twins. Fuck that. Twins could ruin your fucking life. If nothing else, I was proof of that.

The egg retrieval had taken place yesterday, Monday—ironically at the same hospital, Harborview Medical Center, where Bella had had this near death experience—and the transfer was scheduled Wednesday morning at nine am, in advance; whether we had anything to transfer, or not. It was a testament of how much faith Mrs. Reed had in her boss; which made me more concerned.

This guy was good—our nine frozen bunch of cells was proof of that.

Nine. And with _that_ reality fast becoming a possibility, I was beginning to think I wasn't ready—which considering what Bella had put herself through to have this cycle go successfully, made me a complete fucking bastard. But, hell, I had fully expected it to have gone tits up well before this stage, so now it was throwing me way into left field.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Bella asked, placing her palm against my cheek, after we'd stopped at a pedestrian crossing on our way back to Emmett and Rose's house. We'd driven up Sunday afternoon before the retrieval, and today I'd taken her out to lunch, to take her mind off the transfer in the morning—and to escape that little feral, shit of a kid, EJ. We were going back home Thursday morning.

I glanced over at her. Her eyes were bright, her faced almost flushed from the anticipation of the last couple of days. Since the retrieval she'd been over the moon. I wasn't an idiot, I knew how much it meant to her. Through this second cycle she'd fought not to get her hopes up. Let's face it, I didn't want to see her heartbroken if it failed any more than she did, but with this cycle running like fucking clockwork she couldn't help but get caught up in it. If I was being honest, I pretty much got on for the ride; it was a good blocker from the effects of the hormones. She'd gone from Dracula's Bride, as she was at "Clinic Useless" to Aphrodite, goddess of sex, and I wasn't about to start complaining.

"Nothing," I lied, grabbing her hand and pressing my lips to her palm before releasing it, because I knew I was just being a neurotic asshole. I guess I'd just got so caught up in the quest to get a baby that I'd never really thought about us actually having one.

"It's becoming more real, isn't it?" she ventured, looking suddenly vulnerable, before she reached up and tugged on her lower lip.

Shit. I hadn't seen her do that since we were kids.

"You worried about it?" I put it to her, before hitting the gas again.

"No, I just . . . these next couple of weeks are going to kill me," she confessed, and I knew what she meant, because the two weeks of waiting after the transfer was the hardest part of all. Wondering whether any of the shit we'd just put ourselves though would be worth it in the end. That's what it all came down to; two pink fucking lines on a stick.

After that . . . ? Well . . . we'd figure it out if we ever got there.

"Yeah. . ." I mumbled, grabbing her hand again and squeezing, before I shifted up a gear.

"Tell me—what do you think? Yes or no?" she asked—the same question she had fifty fucking times over the last week alone—and when I glanced at her again, my heart fucking clenched.

She looked so fucking hopeful. So desperate.

I opened my mouth, before shaking my head. "I don't know, baby. . . I want to say 'yes', but. . ."

But it would just destroy her again if it failed.

"At least this time we have seven more, if it doesn't take," she reminded me; though, she sounded as if she was speaking it to herself.

And with spares we didn't need to start an entire new cycle, but it did mean another month of injections, before the transfer. And then the torture of waiting all over again.

"Yeah," I agreed simply, for her benefit. I was becoming plagued by my own thoughts, wondering how long we could hold out if it kept failing.

And also wondering how the hell we'd hold up if we ended up with twins!

Fuck. . . Isn't that what we'd been putting ourselves through all this bullshit for? I was just being a miserable bastard, and getting cold feet.

"Edward—what?"—she rolled her head against the headrest to gaze at me—"You're distracted."

I shrugged, one armed. "I'm okay. It's just a lot to take in, I guess," I replied, shrugging a second time, before turning onto Emmett and Rose's street.

She released her breath, shortly. She sounded frustrated, and I knew I needed to get on top of this shit. Only I wasn't exactly sure what it was I worried about—just that I had a gut feeling that everything was about to change.

"I'm okay, baby," I reassured her, after turning off the engine and turning to her.

"Well, why is it you look scared to death!?" she suddenly demanded, her expression darkening, and I knew if I wasn't careful I could unleash the fucking spawn of Satan that was Bella on fertility hormones.

"Because," I blurted without thought, "I have a feeling it's going to work, and I really don't know how I feel about it."

Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?

She only looked at me like I was nuts—rightly so—before she shook her head. "What the hell do you think we've been doing these last few months, Edward?"

"I know!" I conceded.

"Do you even want to have a baby?" she demanded, her voice going higher—a sure sign she was definitely getting pissed and upset.

"Of course I do—I just don't want to have nine of them!" I fessed up, before I could stop myself.

"_What_?" she uttered in disbelief, continuing to look at me as if I'd lost my fucking mind. "What makes you think I want_ nine_?"

"Because we got so many this time—we can't just throw them in the trash," I answered, dragging my hand back through my hair—if only for a reason to severe her gaze.

"Bloody hell, Edward!" she burst, irritated as fuck with me. "I was thinking about _donating_ them."

"You . . . were?" My head snapped back to her.

"Of course I was!" she snapped. "Did you think I wanted all nine of them implanted, and then end up with a reality show on TLC?"

I smirked, before I could fucking help it, and she scowled at me so darkly, I knew I had to cool her down before she murdered me. "I'm sorry, babe."

She only rolled her eyes. "You can't charm your way out of everything!" And with that, she practically jumped out of the truck, slamming the door so hard behind her I thought she'd crack the windscreen, before she stomped off toward the front door muttering about how I was a "bloody idiot".

And just like that the bride of Frankenstein was back, and I really was a _bloody idiot_.

"Trouble in paradise?" Rose arched a brow in my direction, after Bella passed her in the kitchen, on her way to our room, mumbling something unintelligible at her.

"Hormones," I answered, making sure the Blair Witch didn't hear me, and omitting the fact that I'd set her off by my abject fucking stupidity.

She only smiled to herself, continuing to peel potatoes in the sink, but didn't say anything. Not that she had to or, anything. It's not that she often contained her amusement over mine and Bella's obvious desire for babies.

"So, where's the ratbag?" I asked, referring to EJ by the name Bella often called him. I was stalling, and I suspected Rose knew it. It was better to give Bella time to cool off. She'd lose it out of nowhere over the smallest shit, but she usually came down from it just as quickly.

This time Rose chuckled. "He's on a play date—won't be home for a couple of hours at least. Hey, if you're going to just stand there, give me a hand." She tossed me a spare peeler, before I begrudgingly obliged.

This was what my life had become. I now preferred peeling damn vegetables than being around my pumped-to-the-eyebrows-with-hormones wife.

"So, what's going on?" Rose asked, casually. "Yesterday you came back looking like they'd extracted snakes from Bella instead of eggs. Is EJ swearing you off kids for life?"

"Not yet," I mumbled.

She snorted. "Give it time."

"I don't know," I offered as a lame-assed conclusion, before I unwittingly spilled my guts to her. "The truth is, if there was nothing wrong with Bella's fertility I wouldn't even want kids yet. We've barely been married a year and we've been thrown headfirst into this shit. It's fucking grueling, and I feel like it's going to be our life for the next—fuck knows how many years. But at the same time. . ." I let it go; I couldn't fucking speak it out loud.

As it was, I didn't need to.

"At the same time, you're worried it will work. . ." she finished for me, turning to me and throwing me that all-knowing smirk that seemed to be a fucking universal thing for women.

And it made me feel like the bastard I was.

I only shrugged again, full of guilt.

"Emmett went through the same thing, when I was pregnant—the whole 'am I ready to be a father' crap, and now, well you can see for yourself; he loves EJ more than life. He's his 'pride and joy'."

I smiled shortly to myself. That was definitely true.

"You don't want things to change, do you? You don't want to share her." This time she raised an eyebrow, completely seeing into my fucking soul.

"Fuck, Rose, you're killing me," I said lightly, completely contradicting how I really felt. What I felt was criminal, and fucking pathetic.

She chuckled to herself, nudging me with her elbow. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Edward. You're only male."

She was only teasing, but Jesus did she make me feel it.

"Instead if naming your baby after you, have you thought about naming him after your father?" Rose suddenly added, fucking randomly, that I only stared at her for a moment.

"Erm. . ." I stammered, lost for words, before replying without really thinking about it. "Yeah, but I think it'll be a girl."

"Sure, rub it in," she said, only sounding semi joking, before turning to me and whacking me with the dish towel. "Would you go and deal with your wife!"

**. . .**

I found Bella asleep on the bed, and even in her sleep she looked vulnerable, almost fearful, that it tore at my heart.

Lying beside her, I pulled her gently into my arms, realizing she'd been crying—which made me feel fucking worse.

"I'm sorry, baby," I murmured against her brow, releasing every molecule of air in my lungs, and waking her up in process.

"_I'm _sorry, Edward. I never asked you whether you wanted any of this," she said softly, still sounding half asleep, but when I gazed down at her, her eyes were flooding and stricken.

"What are you talking about," I teased her. "We got married—it's what we're supposed to do."

She shook her head, her brow knotting deeply. She was torturing herself, like she normally did. "We . . . we never allowed ourselves to be newlyweds, and we'll never get that back."

"We still _are_ newlyweds, you pain in the ass," I reminded her, making her smile. "Okay, after the transfer tomorrow, let's go back to being _newlyweds_. We'll have sex in every room of the house and walk around all day naked. And I reserve the right to grab your tits anytime I want."

She let go of her breath, shaking her head with it as if she still thought I was nuts, her smile inching broader. "We did all that the first day."

That's what we called it—the day we found each other again—the 'first day'. We haven't forgotten about the past, but we started over anyway. That night in the snow two Februaries ago was the first day; today was the five hundredth and eighty-first.

Yeah, I was still counting.

**. . .**

The transfer, although pain-free for Bella, was the part I hated most. Call me a caveman, but it wasn't exactly comfortable for me to witness anyone—her doctor included—gazing between Bella's legs the same way a dentist peers into your mouth. But it was the only way to get the two bunches of cells properly "implanted into the lining of Bella's uterus". Of course, it didn't help that Doctor Stewart kept referring to that part of her body as her "birth canal".

Fucking birth canal?

I suppose in his line of work, that's all it was used for.

But not for us—at least I fucking hoped not. We were still newlyweds!

It all went off without a hitch, and now we had to wait—the part Bella hated. To wait and see if one or both of them stuck, or if it was all for nothing.

Let me rephrase that, we had to wait two weeks before driving to Seattle to get the blood test to see if had worked. Though, considering we lived so far away and it was a pain in the ass to commute every other week, the doctor told Bella he'd personally call her to give her the results. Like that was some kind of consolation.

We went back to life in Forks—Forks, I hated that fucking hickville town, where every bastard knew everything about everyone else. It was the worst place to live while going through something like this. As it was, the town was well fucking stocked on gossip because of the two of us. If I could get Bella to give up the restaurant, I'd persuade her to move back to civilization with me. I'd even settle for Port Angeles, but that café was her life before I came back into it. I couldn't ask her to sell it just because I hated living in the fucking backwoods of the country.

If the little vixen ever doubted what I felt about her, fucking Forks was proof, if nothing else. Proof that I loved her so much I'd move literally anywhere to be with her.

For the next few weeks I was on nightshift—that was the price I paid by trading my shifts in order to make Bella's appointments—and with Bella using the restaurant as her distraction, I only ever really saw her in the mornings for breakfast. She got home around 5:30pm, and I left at 6:00. She made my dinner and hugged me goodbye. She didn't kiss me. Kissing led to sex, and there was no chance she was going to risk that shit, so I didn't even bother attempting it. We rarely spoke. I was too on edge and she could barely fucking breathe. It was the fucking torture we expected, but like everything else we got through it.

The day we drove back to Seattle for the blood test was the start of my vacation. Our wedding anniversary was a week later and we planned on going for another road trip. If truth be told, I hated driving for hours on end when we could easily get to the same place by plane in an hour, but Bella enjoyed it, so I obliged her. After all, the last time we were really happy was our honeymoon. As fucking pitiful as that was.

Bella was so uptight over the results of the blood test that she didn't even flinch when Doctor Stewart was performing it. Of course, he then got diplomatic and warned us against losing hope if it came back negative—we could start the down regulations again in another week, after all. Reminding us that some people got luckier after a frozen transfer.

Nine kids or another month of this shit . . . I wasn't sure which one would be worse.

The doc promised us he was going to have the results rushed through for us. We'd know in a couple of hours.

Rose had offered their spare bedroom to us again, to stay overnight instead of driving straight back home, but I knew if it came back negative, Bella wouldn't want to share that with anyone but me. So after a quick bite we headed back to Forks.

We got the phone call five miles out from Sequim. Bella let her message bank pick it up. It was her idea, and she let the doc know before we left his office; she wanted to find out at home, and not while we were halfway down the interstate.

So, now we knew either way, and we had to sit on it for another hour until we got home. It was fucking distracting, and neither of us mentioned it—as if it wasn't the fucking elephant in the car squeezing the fucking life out of us.

I wanted to give Bella my own version of the doc's speech, to remind her that whatever happened we'd get through it together, but it felt like a bad omen.

Maybe I knew. No, not "maybe", I _fucking knew_.

Once we were home, we got no further than the kitchen when Bella pulled her phone from her bag, dialed her message bank and put it on speaker.

"Let's just get it over and done with," she mumbled, sounding as if she fucking knew as well.

From the first syllable Doctor Stewart spoke, it was obvious. He sighed half a dozen fucking times before he spoke the words I was dreading. "I'm terribly sorry. . ."

I walked out of the room before I could hear the rest, and was half way upstairs when I caught myself. Every fiber in my fucking body wanted to snap, but I couldn't. Not yet, anyway. . .

I walked, fucking reluctantly, back into the kitchen; Bella hadn't moved. She was standing in the same position I'd left her in, staring down at the phone that was still lying on the breakfast table, her expression . . . well what did I expect? She was heartbroken.

Without a word I pulled her to me, folding my arms around her. She didn't resist or fight me, but she was still and silent—for the longest time. Then slowly she started to crack. She began trembling, all over, until she was all but openly shuddering against me before she burst into tears.

"I knew it," was all she managed to say, and I knew she did.

It seemed we both fucking did.

She cried it out that day in the kitchen, for a good hour—against me. She clung to me, her fists twisting the material of my shirt, and cried . . . and cried. It ripped at my fucking chest, while reminding me so much of the night after Kel's funeral. How young Bella was that night. Seventeen—fuck it felt like it was another life time ago, and in many ways it was, except nothing had really changed. Bella wasn't seventeen anymore, but she was still trapped in the same kind of fucking nightmare.

I didn't say anything, I just held her. What could I say, anyway? That we could try again? She already knew that, and it wouldn't give her an ounce of comfort, because we were, more than likely, going to find ourselves right back here at the end of it.

In this fucking ditch we'd found ourselves in, neither moving forward or back, but stuck.

**. . .**

We headed east a few days later; with no plans, we just drove. We ended up in Montana, camping out in the Glacier National Park, and when I say "camping out" what I really mean is we stayed in a cabin with running water. That was as rough as I liked to get.

Reservations were supposed to be made three days in advance, but since it was October, and the busiest season was over—and after Bella informed the greying woman at the front desk that it was our wedding anniversary—we were given a cabin. The woman had noticed Bella's accent, and I got the impression she thought both of us were from Australia.

It still surprised me when people noticed how she spoke; though, it really shouldn't have. After all, it took me long enough to completely understand her. Half the time I had no fucking idea what she was saying, but bit by bit Bella was turning more into a local of Forks than she was that girl from "the bush", as she once referred to herself as.

And I wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing.

We spent five days hiking through the different trails, seeing the various lakes and falls, before coming back, near fucking exhausted, and having sex. At least, _I _was exhausted; Bella still ran five miles most days, and could outrun me any day of the week. For her it was more emotional exhaustion, and for me it was fucking both.

We'd decided we were going to put all the shit waiting for us back home behind us for this week, and Bella kept that promise. I knew it was still stirring away at the back of her mind, but she made a gallant effort to not let it bring her down. It wasn't going anywhere, after all, and for those few short days she was my Bella again, before all this fertility shit started; before I got her pregnant again.

The Bella I dreamed about every damn night we were apart.

I just wished she'd believe me when I told her—fucking repeatedly—that I could live my entire life with just her—and maybe a fleabag or two—but she was convinced it would only be a matter of time before I left her for a woman who could "reproduce". Because that's all the world needed; another me.

She was right on one thing; I fucking hated that we were going through this shit while we were still newly married. I'd lost count how many times I wished that she'd never gotten pregnant and we were kept in the fucking dark about all of her fertility problems. Sure, it would have come out later at some point, but at least we would have been happy for a couple of years.

All I could hope for now was that we could fix this shit, get this damn baby Bella was so desperate for, and then make up for lost time, for all the fucking crap we'd been put through.

**. . .**

"I don't want to go back, Edward," Bella confessed with a heavy sigh, on the last night. We were laying on the sheepskin rug in front of the open fire, sweaty and slipping against each other as I pulled her naked body to me. "All that's there is . . . _uncertainty_."

I suspected she wanted to use another word, one that wasn't as sugar coated, but she didn't have to elaborate for me. I knew what she meant.

"I know," was all I could offer her, as much as I wished I fucking didn't.

"We're okay, aren't we?" she asked, sounding apprehensive, and when I glanced down at her she was staring up at me, her eyes wide, almost pleading with me.

"Of course we are," I promised her seriously, needing her to believe me. "Everyone has shit to deal with in their marriage, baby. We're just getting ours out of the way up front."

She didn't reply; she only hummed, before curling her body around mine as it cooled. She sounded cynical, though. As if she was humoring me.

"Do _you_ think we're okay?" I asked her after a pause, continuing to gaze at her.

She nodded, before she almost immediately shrugged. "I . . . I don't think we're going to be completely okay again until we get through all this."

I scoffed. Score one for captain fucking obvious. We wouldn't.

She whacked me in the chest, scoffing back at me. "I know—just shut up!" she replied, sounding so frustrated that I laughed.

She broke into a warm smile, shaking her head at me slightly, and it was proof she was back to being my Bella and not the Sea Hag from hell on hormones.

Though, for the next few months I'd see her less and fucking less.

We got back to Forks in the early evening the next day and life went back to sleeping, working and fucking injections. The only positive was that Bella was only doing the down injections. She didn't need to grow any more follicles, so I only had to jab her for half the time.

With seven embryos left we decided to implant two at once again. One didn't survive after being thawed out, so if this month failed we'd be left with four.

Of course, both failed, and the next month only one was implanted . . . and again failed.

Then we were left with three, and then two. . .

I really didn't know how much longer we could continue keeping this shit up. As it was, I barely knew myself anymore, let alone my wife, and _none of it_ seemed worth it anymore. I was close to being done with all of it.

**. . .**

By the time it was Christmas, and while we were half way through another cycle of down injections, Bella got sick. I mean, _really_ sick. She came down with bronchitis which quickly turned to pneumonia. We ended up in the E.R in the early hours of Christmas morning; she was struggling to breathe so much her lips and fingers were turning blue. I drove her to Port Angeles, in almost half the time it usually took me, and the Triage nurse took one look at her and rushed her through. She was put on oxygen, and given fluids and a larger dose of antibiotics through an I.V.

It sounds straight forward but, naturally, it fucking wasn't. The doctor had a hard time finding a vein, and when he attempted to insert the I.V., her veins collapsed and her blood pressure dropped so low she passed out cold. He ended up putting the I.V. in the vein at the inside of her elbow.

It was proof all the shit she was going through with IVF was wearing her down, and that was the moment I was done. I wasn't going to risk her for anything—baby included.

We were advised to scrap this month's cycle—but that was a given—and Bella was put on strict bed rest for the next week at least. By midday her color had returned and she'd perked back up, and not long after, was practically demanding to be released—pain in the ass that she was. She was signed out and by 1pm we were on our way back home.

We'd planned on spending Christmas day at Charlie's with Sue, Jake and Leah, but as soon as we got home I sent Bella straight to bed, before calling Charlie to let him know what had happened.

"We'll have other Christmases, you pain in the ass," I promised, all but dragging her under the covers.

She was sobbing, pitifully; in fact it was so pitiful I couldn't help smiling. Though, if I didn't smile, I'd probably start crying with her.

"Charlie's going to come around tomorrow. It's not that bad," I assured her, wiping the tears from her face, my smile pulling to a grin.

Taking a heavy breath—and breaking into a coughing fit—she nodded, conceding. "I know. It's just . . . this year has been so shitty I'm beginning to think we need to find a Shaman and get this bloody curse lifted from us."

I laughed softly, and opened my mouth—to agree with her for the most part—when the fleabag started scratching and whimpering at the door to be let in. "Hang on, B-Dog has separation anxiety." I rolled my eyes, before letting the hairy bastard in, to jump and slobber all over Bella, while I went back down stairs to make us coffee and something to eat. I was starving, and I wasn't about to touch the crap they call food at the Olympic Medical Center.

After making Bella a bowl of soup, that she barely touched, I brought up the gifts we'd got each other from under the tree.

"Merry Christmas, you big _sook_," I teased her, laughing as she immediately scowled at me, before dumping the pile of presents before her.

We spent the rest of the day in bed—the three of us, me, Bella and the fleabag—unwrapping presents, and pigging out on the chocolate and candy Bella had stuffed in my stocking. She'd ordered me a box of Tim Tams, in every flavor, as well as other Australian chocolates that I'd become addicted to the last time we'd visited Rach and Naomi. I'd bought her a personalized gold necklace, with her name on it—that I'd ordered online months ago—and a jar of Vegemite, among the rest of it, and she bought me some fancy brand wallet with a picture of us on our wedding day in the photo pocket. She made us wear kooky matching Santa hats, and t-shirts—the furball included—while we watched corny Christmas movies. We laughed a lot, which made Bella cough up the crap in her lungs, and we slept; making up from the night before.

Overall, I really enjoyed it; it was just the two of us without any mention of the hell we'd deliberately put ourselves through over the last year.

At least, not right away.

It wasn't until early evening, when Bella woke up from a two hour nap, that something snapped in her. She was cranky, and was starting to wheeze again, and after attempting to cough up another lung full of shit, and almost choking, I ended up throwing her in the shower—after hurling abuse at me for a good thirty minutes straight, that is.

"Hey!" I eventually snapped, yanking open the shower door and startling her. "I'm not the enemy here!"

"I-I know you're not," she whispered, before she hung her head, breaking my gaze. "I'm sorry, honey. It's not you."

With a deep sigh, I turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around her, before pulling her against me. "Come and get dressed before you end up worse."

After helping her into her clothes, insisting she wear something warmer than the skimpy little night shirts she usually wore, I put her back to bed, climbing in after her.

She curled herself against me, her head resting against my shoulder, but she didn't speak—neither of us did. She appeared lost in her own thoughts, while I psyched myself into admitting to her something that I'd been burying for the last couple of months: that I didn't want to do IVF anymore.

"Baby, we're going to have to stop this shit soon. It's killing us," I fessed up, after several more minutes of stalling.

I felt her tense, before she rose her head and met my gaze, but she didn't get mad at me, or burst into tears like I expected her to. She seemed . . . resigned. "Yeah," she said softly, after a pause. "I was going to talk to you about it. . ."

"Yeah . . .?" I asked, surprised.

She nodded, frowning, appearing to wrestle with her thoughts for a moment. "I just wasn't sure what I really wanted to do."

"What do you want to do?" I coaxed her.

"At first . . . I was thinking we should take a year off—at least a year off, but then . . . it'd still be hanging over us." She met my gaze, staring deep into my eyes. "I just want to get it over and done with now, so we can put it behind us." I nodded, opening my mouth to reply when she added, "I'm going to ask Doctor Stewart to implant the last two embryos together. I-I just need closure from it, Edward. So I'll know we saw it through to the end."

"Okay," I conceded, before wrapping my arm around her neck and planting my lips against her brow.

She snuggled closer to me, before releasing her breath, and I felt the congestion of her lungs vibrating against me. She sounded dejected, close to tears, but of course she would be. This had to be cutting her deep.

"I want a baby, Edward, but not at the expense of you—at us."

"Fuck, baby," I sighed, turning away from her to reef my hand back through my hair. "I would have done anything to get you that baby, but it just doesn't seem to be working for us."

She nodded, humming sadly. "I know. I feel like we're fighting against something that . . . just isn't meant to be." Her voice softly broke, and when I turned back to her, tears were overflowing down her face.

It fucking broke my heart, that I couldn't give her this baby, and that it would always haunt her; it'd always be something she'd long for. It fucking killed me, but what the fuck could I do?

"We could adopt a baby?" she suggested a moment later, wiping her tears away clumsily. "Or even an older child."

"Yeah, we could." And I had to glance away from her again, because if I kept staring into those completely fucking broken eyes of hers I'd lose it.

"There's probably thousands of kids who are living like I did, Edward—who need a home . . . and someone to love them. . . Would-would you mind . . .?"

"Would I mind . . .?" I pressed her, confused.

"If you never had your own child?"

"Bella—Jesus!" I burst, fucking breaking open and yanking her into my arms. "Of course I wouldn't mind." Then cupping the sides of her face, I pulled her gently back. She was crying openly; the tears flowing in rivers down her face. "Don't you get it, baby?" I stressed. "You're _all _I ever wanted!"

She only nodded, her eyes closing even as the tears spilled from beneath her lashes. It was fucking hard to bear, to constantly watch her go through this amount of pain, but it needed to happen. This was a conversation we needed to have.

"But not for a couple of years, Edward," she added, a moment later. "Until we're thirty, at least."

"Sounds good to me," I murmured, pulling her back with me against the sheets and closing my eyes, letting go of every fucking molecule of air in my lungs.

Bella dozed for about forty minutes, her breath hiccupping in her sleep—so pathetically adorable that I really just wanted to fucking sob with her, but when she woke up she was a lot calmer.

"Can you get me a drink of water, honey?" she asked, her voice croaky, her face still blotchy and tear streaked.

I got her a glass from the bathroom, grabbing her medicine as I did.

"When do you want to do the last cycle?" I asked her, after she handed me back the empty glass and fell back against her pillow.

"When I've finished the antibiotics, I guess," she mumbled, shrugging, still looking so completely fucking defeated.

"Okay," I agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear and out of her eyes.

One more cycle. I could do one more.

"And I'm not going to get so uptight over it this time, either," she added, the conviction sparking in her tone, before she tugged me back into bed beside her. "I expect it to fail, but we need to finish it, so I'm just going to let whatever happens happen."

"That's my girl," I added too fucking sappy, to which she immediately became cynical.

"Cheeseball."

**. . . **

So that was the plan, and by mid-January we started with the last course of down injections—fucking ever!

Bella was never going to enjoy being injected, and I fucking detested doing them, but she remained at ease about it just as she promised. I jabbed her morning and night, and then we'd have sex. We had a lot of sex. In fact, during those three weeks we had more sex than we'd had in months, and Bella began smiling again, almost as if she was as relieved as I was it was ending.

The transfer was booked, and both embryos survived the thawing. And for the last time Doctor Stewart moved himself between my wife's legs and injected those damn eggs into her uterus without a single complication.

After, the doc left Bella to rest for a few minutes, like he usually did, this is when she turned to me and grabbed my hand.

"Honey, it's our first day anniversary."

Jesus, it was. Bella and I had been back together for two years.

"Don't read too much into it, baby," I warned her, at the same moment she spoke the exact same thing to me.

She laughed, and shook her head. "I won't."

It was just the universe being a cruel fucking bastard, after all.

A half an hour later we were heading back home. I was on night shift, and Bella still wasn't a 100% recovered from pneumonia. I figured she'd be more comfortable in our bed than in Rose and Emmett's spare room.

She made my dinner for later in the night and saw me off at the door. I pulled her into my arms, and for a moment I was happy to just hold onto her. I finally felt like we'd found our way through this nightmare and we could finally start fucking living again.

As for the last implanted embryos; I didn't expect them to stick. I really didn't.

"I love you, baby," I whispered in her ear, kissing her once more against her temple before heading to the car.

The two weeks we had to wait before the blood test wasn't as crappy as it usually was, but it was still at the back of my mind—and I knew it was the same for Bella, no matter how much she attempted to convince me otherwise. Still, we got through the days by distracting each other as much as possible—with sex usually, but Bella still spent way too much time working as a means to combat it.

The blood test was scheduled for February 24th; fifteen days from the transfer.

On the 22nd Bella woke up before her alarm, around 5am, jumped out of bed and literally ran to the bathroom. I was behind her not five seconds later just as she began throwing up.

"Don't say a word!" she demanded, after I'd come in after her and grabbed her hair away from her face. "It's a coincidence—that's all it—."

Before she could finish she went into another round of puking, and for a moment I focused only on looking after her, before my thoughts started ticking over.

The last time she'd thrown up was when she'd had the ectopic pregnancy. . .

"I'm not going to say anything," I promised her, keeping my hand clamped around her hair, breaking into a grin. "But if you miraculously get better around 11am . . ._ then_ _I might _say something."

And that's pretty much what happened. After two more trips to the bathroom, Bella fell back asleep. She woke up again around 10am. I made her toast and an ice tea and left her to it. I heard the shower running about an hour later, before she came back downstairs, dressed for work, but looking troubled.

"Feeling better, buttercup?" I teased her.

She met my eyes, smirking at me cynically, before her expression fell. "Honey, don't—I can't do that to myself," she all but pleaded with me, and I knew what she meant.

It could have just been that bastard universe continuing its cruel joke against us.

"Okay. . ." I admitted, pulling myself up from the sofa and wrapping my arm around her waist. "I'm going to crash—sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, laying her head against my chest for a moment. "Probably something I ate . . . or something."

"Mmm-hmm," I replied cynically, before she openly shoved me.

"Go to bed!"

I chuckled, sliding my hand up beneath her shirt and grabbing one of her breasts, when she immediately flinched, drawing in her breath sharply and shoving away from me.

"Edward—that hurt!" she exclaimed, bringing both her hands to cover her chest as if she was protecting them from me.

"It . . . _hurt_?" I questioned her, raising a suspicious brow. I was always groping her, and she'd never complained that I'd hurt her before.

She opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly froze, blinking for a moment. "I-I . . . just shut up," she mumbled, clearly distracted.

I only chuckled. "Are you sure you're okay, Miss Pukey?"

"Edward," she reproached me, seriously this time. "Once, it's a coincidence. If it happens again tomorrow. . ." She sighed, shaking her head, before grabbing her purse. "Can you feed Buddy?"

"Sure—would you go to work, woman!"

She kissed my cheek—just in case she had the stomach bug "or something", and left for work.

After feeding the fleabag, I went upstairs to have a shower before going back to bed, when I noticed Bella had left her phone on the nightstand.

I called the restaurant; Sue answered it a moment later.

"Hey, darl—you want me to get Bella?"

"Yeah, thanks, Sue."

"Oh, wait she's outside dealing with one of the deliveries. I'll get her to call you back, shall I?"

"Okay—how she doing, anyway?"

"Hmmm . . . not too good. We don't know where to put her."

"What do you mean?"

"She can't be around the food without throwing up, so she hasn't been serving or cooking. I've been having her take orders, but she keeps having woozy spells. I don't want to jinx anything, but are you thinking what we all are?"

"Yeah, I'm beginning to. . ." I admitted, wryly.

Either the universe was being one big fucking prick, or . . . _shit_. . .

**. . . **

Bella didn't last much longer at the restaurant before she came home. I woke up to find her asleep downstairs on the sofa; the fleabag schlepping all over her.

"Buddy, get off!" I ordered the little shit, while trying to keep my voice no louder than a whisper.

The little fucker only growled at me, beneath his breath, and went back to smooching with my wife.

"Get outside, you little asshole," I snapped, grabbing him by the collar and reefing him off Bella.

She jolted, suddenly, sitting upright and looking up at me disorientated.

"You okay, baby?" I asked her gently, I think for the fiftieth time that day.

"Yeah, I just don't feel right today. It must be a virus, or something," she mumbled, not sounding very convincing.

"Honey," I sat beside her on the sofa, "you had pneumonia a month ago. You wouldn't get sick so soon after that."

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm still getting over it."

"Maybe," I agreed with her, only for her benefit. I sure as hell wasn't buying it.

I left or work that afternoon after making Bella promise me she'd call me and then her uncle, or Angela, if she wasn't feeling well.

She obliged me, when I knew deep down she thought I was overreacting. But what else could I go by? The last two times Bella was pregnant it almost killed her, so I was always going to be an over anxious prick about it.

**. . . **

I got home the next morning just before 6am. Usually at that time the house was quiet, but this morning half the lights were on, and the furball was nowhere to be seen.

At first I thought nothing of it, just assuming Bella was starting work earlier this morning; until I found her slumped over the toilet; her head half way down the bowl.

"Oh dear. . ." I said soothingly, kneeling beside her and scooping her hair out of her face again. "Can I say it yet?"

Because what else could it be? Once I could write it off as a coincidence, but twice?

"No," she sobbed, her voice echoing around the porcelain. "We find out tomorrow."

"Poor baby," I murmured, planting my lips to her bared shoulder. "Poor knocked up baby."

"Edward!" she protested, only to make herself throw up again. "Stop. . ." she whimpered a moment later.

Once I was sure she was done with this morning's dose of puking, I got her a glass of water, gently helping her to her feet. "When did it start?"

She took a timid sip of the water, before leaning up against me. "About twenty minutes ago. I felt completely fine last night. I ate dinner—I was fine."

"And now you're not," I stated the obvious.

"Now I'm not," she repeated with a sigh.

"Okay, buttercup, back to bed." I hoisted her up in my arms.

"Good grief, you're carrying me?" she teased me, and I was about to laugh when I stopped short in my tracks with a huge dose of Deja vu.

"Jesus. . ." I muttered, in near disbelief.

She was pregnant.

**. . .**

Just like the day before, around 11 am Bella started feeling better, and by mid-afternoon it had gone completely. And just like the two days previously, on the morning of the day of the blood test Bella woke at the crack of dawn and threw up for forty minutes straight.

It was genuinely fucked up and miserable—for both of us—but then this was what she'd been hoping for every damn day over the last twelve months.

We had to be at the clinic by 12pm, which meant we had to leave at 8am to get there in time. But by the time we were two hours into the journey, and no farther than Maple Grove—30 fucking miles down the road—I knew we were never going to make it in time. Travelling made Bella three times sicker, and I hadn't taken into account how many times I'd have to stop for her to throw up. She threw up so much she had nothing left in her stomach. It was making me anxious, and I knew if I didn't stop I'd drive over a fucking embankment somewhere and kill us both.

By that point I called the clinic, told Victoria what was happening, before parking in the lot of the Shadow Mountain General store, and waited for this morning sickness—or whatever the fuck it was—to pass.

"I'm sorry, honey," Bella moaned from beside me, cupping her palm around her forehead. I'd reclined the seat almost horizontally so she could try and get some sleep—not that it made any difference.

"It's okay, baby. Just relax a moment. Do you want me to get you anything? Some water?" I asked her, lowering the pitch of my voice.

She only nodded, making some pitiful sounding whimper, and with a weary fucking sigh I got out of the car, and headed toward the general store.

When I reached the entrance, and just as I grabbed the door, it swung back toward me before I all but collided with someone.

Someone _small._

"Edward!" this _someone _exclaimed, full of fucking enthusiasm, and I knew that fucking voice before I looked down at the person speaking it.

My sister.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I accused her, taken fucking back, because I was suddenly being assaulted by an arsenal of emotions; the primary one being some twisted form of comfort.

I was happy to fucking see her, and I hated the fact that I was.

"I-I Jazz and I . . . we have a conference just around the corner. We're staying in the RV Park behind here," she stammered, making an askew hand gesture toward fuck knows where. "How-how are you?"

I only gazed at her for a moment, ignoring her question. She still looked relatively the same. She wasn't as scrawny as she once was; though, she was still the bohemian fucking hippie she was the last time I saw her.

"I'm fine," I said shortly.

"How's Bella?" she enquired, meekly.

"Fine." I looked away from her, subconsciously toward the car with Bella inside.

She followed my gaze, before back at me. "How's the IVF going?" she asked apprehensively.

"Haven't you been getting that information from Carlisle and Mother Dearest?" I snapped back at her, making her jump, and feeling like an asshole for it.

Then feeling like an asshole for feeling like an asshole.

"Yeah . . . I ask Carlisle. . ." she didn't elaborate—not that she needed to—before huffing softly to herself and looking down. "I'm sorry, Edward."

"I know."

She looked up at me again, her eyes hopeful this time. "Would you like to meet your niece and nephew? They're ten months now."

"Erm," I stalled, reaching up to rub the back of my neck, and breaking her gaze, fucking uncomfortably. I really didn't, but at the same time, I felt bad for not wanting to.

What the fuck was wrong with me? This was the person closest to me, outside of Bella, who betrayed me. _Premeditatedly_ betrayed me.

"I can go and get them," she explained, her tone going higher, taking my hesitation as a fucking green light.

Which was just like Alice. Always reading shit wrong.

"I don't know, Alice," I admitted truthfully, and with genuine fucking regret in my tone.

"Oh. . ." she said, her tone falling. "Okay."

"Look," I began, when suddenly Bella came to stand beside me, grabbing my arm for support.

"Hi, Alice," she said, her voice . . . blank.

"Hey, Bella," Alice replied, gently, smiling at her with uncertainty. "How are you?"

"Sick," Bella answered candidly.

"Oh . . . are you . . .? She left it unspoken, but that was another thing about my pain in the ass sister. She was always too fucking perceptive.

Bella shrugged, leaning further against me, before I wrapped my arm around her, taking most of her weight. "We could be this time."

"Oh!" Alice practically burst a fucking gasket, her entire face lighting up. And I knew she was genuinely fucking happy.

"Yeah, she's sick in the mornings. . ." I added, for fuck knows what reason.

"I have been," Bella mumbled, swaying against me.

"I-I'm so happy for you guys—really, I am."

"Thanks," Bella and I both answered, before I became impatient. "Okay, look, Alice, we just stopped off so Bella can recover for a bit. We're not hanging around."

She nodded, a little too hastily. "Okay. I'm-I'm just happy to see you guys—when will you know for sure?"

"Today," Bella answered, while I was contemplating whether or not to say anything.

"I'll be crossing my fingers—really!"

"Thanks, Alice," Bella mumbled with a decent amount of courtesy that I stared down at her for a moment. She still looked like death; other than that. . .

I shook my head, before again meeting my sister's gaze. "Bye, Alice."

"Bye. . ." Alice replied softly, her voice catching, and I had to get Bella the fuck away from there before she cracked.

Or before I did.

"Jesus, Bella, why didn't you stay in the car?" I demanded, frustrated, as I lead her back to it.

"Because I heard you talking to someone and when I saw who is was I wasn't sure whether you were going to murder her or hug her."

"It was neither," I muttered, irritated that she knew exactly what I was feeling—what I still was—before helping her back into the fully reclined seat. "Close your eyes for a while. You look terrible."

"Thanks," she mumbled sarcastically, before closing them anyway, "I _feel_ terrible."

When I turned back toward the store again, I was relieved to see the little rat was gone. I didn't want to see her again, and as it was, it was going to take me a lot fucking longer than it should have to recover from seeing her in the first place.

After paying for a bottle of water and a can of coke, I headed back out of the store, fucking hastily before my sister could catch up with me again. I contemplated driving further down the road, but that'd make me look as though I was avoiding her—which I fucking wanted to—and I didn't want to torture Bella further with the motion of the car.

So we were fucking sitting ducks, with Alice, and her no doubt idiot husband, only a few feet away from us.

Of course, because my sister was never going to take the fucking hint and leave shit alone, not five minutes later, I caught sight of her walking toward us, pushing a large fucking stroller.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I burst, slamming my hand against the steering wheel, as I sat cringing behind it.

"She's coming, isn't she?" Bella spoke up, her tone full of exasperation, before she squinted up at me.

"Did you have any doubts she wouldn't?" I said, darkly, pissed off.

Smiling ironically, Bella only shook her head.

After Alice tapped on the window, and before praying for fucking death—and restraint—I reluctantly got out of the car to meet my _niece and nephew._

"This is Edward," Alice announced proudly, placing her hand on top of the completely bald head of her kid, who only stared up at me, his mouth open, his eyes all but crossed, as if I was the fucking Loch Ness Monster. "Say hello to Uncle Edward, Teddy."

"Teddy?" I echoed dubiously.

"Yeah, it's what Jazz calls him," she explained, waving her hand.

"Hello, _Teddy_," I said, begrudgingly changing my tone for him.

The kid only grunted back at me, before he started bawling.

"Does Bella want to say hi," she asked, as she calmed the kid down by shoving a pacifier in his mouth; though every time he glanced at me, he kicked off again; the pacifier remaining clamped between the few teeth he had.

"Bella's lying down," I explained, continuing to gaze at the kid, beginning to feel a strange kind of affection for him—no matter how weird looking he was, sans eyebrows and hair and looking exactly like his father.

"Oh, poor thing," Alice commented. "I don't miss those days," she added before propping the other kid upright, who'd been asleep beside her brother. "This is Esme."

Esme, who was the image of my sister, only swayed back and forth as if she was drunk, before she joined her brother and started bawling.

"Jesus, Alice, you didn't have to wake the poor kid up."

After shoving a matching pacifier into this kid's mouth, Alice turned to face me. "I know, but. . ." she attempted to explain, before I jerked my shoulder.

"This isn't exactly appropriate," I muttered.

"I know," she repeated, only to immediately shrug it off, which was so fucking typical of her that I knew she'd never change. "So what do think of them?"

I sighed impatiently, before gazing back at the poor kid named after my mother. She was awake now, her tears stopped, while she peered back at me curiously. It's amazing how kids will stare at you without shame, because that's what this kid was doing, before out of fucking nowhere, she smiled up at me, behind that ridiculously stupid pacifier.

And before I knew what I was doing I was smiling back.

"Oh, she likes you," Alice exclaimed happily.

Instantly fucking annoyed and flustered, I snapped my attention back to my sister, ready to end this shit right then and there. Only just as I opened my mouth, Bella pulled herself out of the car, looking all pasty and miserable, before she spotted my sister's offspring and broke into a huge fucking smile.

"Oh they're so sweet, Alice," she commented sincerely, before kneeling down before them.

She managed to get a toothless grin from _Master Teddy, _before I lost it, grabbing her around the waist and turning her away from them.

"We're leaving, Alice—we're already late!" I said abruptly, the meaning behind my words clear.

I didn't want this, and I didn't want Bella being caught up in it, either.

Not now—not fucking ever.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked, if you did maybe show me some love, or not; otherwise see you next time. Only 6 more chapters to re-write *sobs***


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Another one down . . . fuck knows how many to go. I think there's 4 . . . maybe. FML.  
Sorry for the lack of review thanks. I was on holidays and the computer I used was a glitchy POS that was so slow it wouldn't load to allow me. I'll do it now I'm back to civilisation - and fibre optic technology! But you know I love you all regardless.  
Anywho. . .**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 31**

**Edward's POV**

"We're leaving, Alice. We're already late!" Edward snapped, his tone reflecting the coldness of his eyes, while neither looking at me or his sister.

"Edw—," I began, only to be cut off as he grabbed me, all but lifting me off the ground and back into the front passenger seat of the car.

He was manhandling me, and I didn't like it!

"Edward!" I demanded angrily, all but falling back against the fully reclined seat I'd been attempting to rest in a few moments ago.

Impatiently, I reached up, pulling the switch to incline my seat just as Edward practically threw himself into the driver's side, jerked the car into gear, before accelerating so fast out of the parking lot, the tires skidded in the mud for several seconds.

"Edward—bloody hell! Are you trying to kill us both!?" I yelled, just as a terrible wave of nausea hit me. "Oh god, Edward—stop! I'm going to be sick!"

But there was nowhere to stop, not for a couple of miles down the road, when we came to a small rest area. And the entire time, despite my protests, Edward remained silent.

The moment Edward pulled to a stop, I scrambled out of the car, my hand clamped over my mouth, almost falling in the icy mud in my haste. Then, taking one deep, measured breath after another, I willed my stomach to calm. I'd thrown up so much already it was aching, but thankfully as the cold air washed over my face and filled my lungs the nausea almost immediately began to ease.

Still, I was shaky and lightheaded. I needed to sit down, but there wasn't anywhere; it was just a small gravelled clearing on the side of the road.

In the next moment, Edward was beside me, his arm slipping around my waist. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, his tone low, full of regret.

"Don't ever grab me like that again!" I burst, my voice straining, shoving against him, before begrudgingly accepting his support.

"I know. Come and sit down," he conceded, leading me back to the car.

He again reclined the seat for me—not entirely horizontally this time—but remained standing in the doorway; his arm resting on the open door as he gazed down the highway. His brow was becoming increasingly knotted, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, before he turned his gaze to me. "I just. . ." he let it go, shaking his head. "I'm not in the right frame of mind to be dealing with that shit right now, baby, and I didn't want you around. . ." For the second time he abandoned it, becoming frustrated. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," I reassured him, my anger dissipating as I became increasingly aware of just how much running into his sister had upset him.

He smiled at me warmly for a second or two, before his demeanour instantly reverted back and that stormy expression again encompassed his face. "I know she wants me to forgive her, but . . . I don't know—and then she fucking throws her kids in my face. What the hell was I supposed to do?" He was pleading with me, and there was a raw edge to his tone that immediately affected me.

I grabbed his hand, tugging him closer to me. "You couldn't do anything, honey. You met her kids, and that's it. She has no right to push you."

"I don't know," he said, more or less to himself, distracted as he once again stared toward the horizon, "but sometimes I think I should just accept her apology and put it behind me."

"Is that what you want to do?" I ventured.

He turned back to me and only gazed at me for a moment, his eyes—his entire expression—torn. "I don't know," he eventually repeated, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't want this on my mind right now, but I'm just sick and tired of it and all the crap we have to deal with because of her. If I just fucking forgave her, then it'd be done and we could get on with our lives."

"Edward," I said softly, pulling him down to me. He relented, sitting on the edge of the seat beside me, but again refused to look at me; while running his fingers repeatedly through his hair. "_Honey_," I pressed him, grabbing his jacket attempting to physically turn him, "look at me." He did, reluctantly, his burning eyes meeting mine, before I put it to him, delicately, "_Do_ you forgive her?"

He scoffed in reply, almost laughing dryly. "No."

"_But _. . . ?" I coaxed him to continue.

"But—I don't fucking know, Bella!" he burst, his hand once more ripping back through his hair. "I think about what she did and I fucking _detest _her, and it tears me apart—that I feel that way about her. That she could have done that to me to _make_ me feel that way. And right at this time—right _now_, she just shows up like nothing ever happened," he was starting to rant, but I knew he needed to get it out of his system and it was distracting me from the nausea. "With everything we're dealing with I don't want to be thinking about that! I don't want Alice in my fucking head!"

I nodded, sitting upright in the seat, before wrapping my arms around his. "I know," I replied, keeping my tone soothing, before resting my chin on his shoulder.

He turned to fully look at me, his lips resting against my brow, before he released the air in his lungs in one momentous gush. "This shit is going to stick in my head all fucking day," he muttered.

"Alice . . . bloody hell. . ." I said with a sigh, before pulling back to meet his gaze. "But I understand what you mean, honey, because every time I think of her I'm instantly reminded of _that day_, in the living room—when she told me. . ."

Edward broke into a small grin, his breath pushing quickly through his nose. "She told me you threw her out of the house."

"I _did,"_ I agreed, smiling along with him, "but Buddy chased her out, as well. He went full Pitbull on her. I've never seen him act like that before."

"The _fleabag_?" he said lightly, his brows raised, more impressed than he was willing to admit. "He's scared of his own shadow."

I nudged him and he chuckled before curling his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. "You feeling better? You still look pale."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I'm over throwing up already."

"Yeah, you're a good puker," he teased me, chuckling, and even the motion of his laughter rocking lightly against me caused the nausea the roll through me again, but then that could have been the scent of his aftershave.

Groaning, I pulled back from him. "Do you have any chewy? This taste in my mouth isn't helping."

"Do I have any _chewy_?" he questioned me, raising a single, dubious brow. "As in that big hairy thing from Star Wars?"

"You know what I mean! Are you seriously going to mock me—even now?!" I burst, not even remotely in the mood to be teased by him.

He laughed again, too bloody charming for his own good, but in the process it seemed that all thoughts of Alice were temporarily removed from his mind. "Okay, calm down, buttercup. I have some in the glove box."

It took another hour before the nausea began to completely fade, and during that time it began to snow; which was going to slow us down even more. Edward kept me laughing, which kept me distracted from whatever the hell it was that was making me feel so miserable, but it also kept his immediate thoughts from Alice. I knew with Edward, though, it'd always be stewing beneath the surface.

Of all days, why today?

An hour later we attempted to get back on the road, but the only way I could make it was driving with the window down. It was February, and needless to say, it was freezing, but I coped better with the cold than I did the nausea.

"Jesus, baby!" Edward sighed, when he pulled my near freezing form out of the car at the Bainbridge Island ferry crossing. "You'll end up with pneumonia again."

Strangely enough the motion of the ferry was actually soothing on my stomach; though, Edward and I were the only people standing outside on the bow. I found that as long as I was breathing fresh air, and not the stuffiness of inside the car—mixed with Edward's aftershave—I was okay. And the icy conditions actually helped the nausea pass more quickly.

"I'm king of the world!" Edward hollered, like the complete dork that he was, as he cocooned me in his arms from the elements.

I only laughed at him, but again being so close to him and inhaling him in was fast compromising me.

"Honey," I declared pulling back from him, "you're going to have to change your aftershave. I can't stand the smell of it."

He flashed me a quizzical look. "It's Aramis. You bought it for me for Christmas, remember?" He bent down to me, so I could smell it close against his neck.

I took one whiff and almost went over backwards. "Oh, god—no," I exclaimed, whipping my head away from him and once more clamping my hand over my nose and mouth.

"Can I say it, yet?" he said, and when I looked back at him he was grinning knowingly.

I shook my head, adamantly. "No. You can say it when I have a jellybean sitting _not_ inside my fallopian tube."

**. . .**

We arrived two hours after our appointment, and when we walked into Dr Stewart's waiting area, windswept and dishevelled Mrs Reed only smiled broadly over it us.

"He's expecting you, Mrs Cullen. How are you feeling?" she called out across the room.

"Not too bad now, thank you," I replied sheepishly, as everyone seated immediately looked over at me and Edward expectantly.

I took a seat, attempting to avoid all the curiosity, when Rachel—another of Dr Stewart's patients—who was sitting opposite me and Edward, leaned forward in her chair.

"Are you 'positive', Bella?" she asked discreetly, her face lighting up at the prospect. She'd received her _positive_ a month ago; she was expecting twins. Twins after three years of IVF. She'd only found out in her late thirties that she had fertility problems, and I was so happy for her and her husband.

I moved to shake my head, but stopped myself. "I find out today, but . . ." Distracted, I didn't finish. I couldn't even entertain the thought of being pregnant yet. It still felt like a mirage to me.

"She has this strange dose of food poisoning that comes on in the mornings and disappears before lunch, and she can't stand the smell of my aftershave all of a sudden," Edward added wryly, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"_Edward_." I sighed.

"Oh!" Rachel's expression immediately brightened. "How long?"

"Just the last three days," I answered, downplaying it. My heart was beginning to race; I was so afraid to get my hopes up. This time, with it being our last attempt, the heartbreak would already be devastating if it failed. I didn't want to make it worse for myself.

I was expecting it to fail, I was used to getting negatives, and I'd prepared myself for another one every day of this cycle that I could barely process the idea of it being positive.

It felt like an unobtainable dream.

"Oh, Bella, it_ has_ to be positive," she insisted, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

I smiled at her warmly, gratefully, but I was scared to death.

Mrs Reed informed us that since we'd missed our appointment the wait time would be around thirty minutes, but it was beginning to feel as long as the last two weeks. I only sat, completely upright in the waiting room chair, my hands clasped in my lap, rigid and trembling, when Edward curved his hand around my waist, coaxing me back with him.

"Just relax, baby. You're as stiff as a board," he murmured in my ear, before pressing his lips lightly to my temple.

I nodded, too hastily, taking a tense breath and attempting to relax against him, but it was no use. It had all come down to this.

It was all or nothing.

"Mrs Cullen?" Dr Stewart finally called, before looking over at me and breaking into a broad smile as he held out his hand for us. Over twelve months married and it still felt weird to be referred to as "Mrs Cullen". I always expected to turn around and see Edward's mother.

I stood up too hastily, before Edward grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to him as we entered the little consultation room for, what I'd prepared myself would be, the last time.

"So," Dr Stewart began, after sitting himself behind his large mahogany desk, and pressing his fingers together under his chin, "tell me what's been happening? You're getting what you think is morning sickness?"

"I-I think so, but I'm not sure," I began, with so much uncertainty, that Edward took over.

"For the last three days she's woken up at around 5am, and then throws up on and off until about ten. Plus she can't be around certain cooked food—or my cologne."

"I _see._ . ." Dr Reed replied, a slight smile twitching at his lips, before he started flipping through pages in my file, then back at me again. "Okay, let's get this over and done with."

He stood up and motioned me to the bed, before he began opening a new syringe and the required test tubes.

"How's that pneumonia going?" he asked casually as he pulled the tourniquet tight around my upper arm, before flicking his finger against my cubital vein. "All cleared up?"

I nodded, reaching above my head for Edward with my free hand; he caught it in his, and either his palms had sprung a leak, or mine had. Though, I was sure for one horrifying moment I was going to throw up.

"Breathe, Bella," Edward spoke softly to me, making me realise I was holding my breath stiffly in my lungs.

"Close your eyes, Mrs Cullen. Just relax," Dr Reed gently instructed me.

I squeezed my eyes closed, just as I felt the sting of the needle pierce my skin. It made me jolt as it always did, my breath hitching with it, before Edward squeezed my hand tighter; his other coming to wrap around it.

I forced myself to concentrate on him, on the warmth of his skin, but I couldn't stop shaking; while my thoughts suddenly screamed out behind my closed eyes, pleading with everything that I was for this to be_ the one_.

"It definitely sounds like this one could be positive, Mrs Cullen," Dr Stewart commented, once he was seated back behind his desk, while I was slumped against Edward, pitifully. "And if it is, I'm going to need you to come back in a couple of days for another blood test, to make sure your hCG levels are increasing."

Sitting up instantly in my chair, I turned to face Edward.

"We could stay at Rose and Emmett's," he answered the question I didn't ask.

For a moment I just gazed at him, almost shaking my head—almost blurting the words "what if it's negative"? Instead, I asked, "How will you get to work?"

"I'll _chuck a sickie_," he teased me, with an all too charming grin—right there in the Doctor's office, as the possibility of my pregnancy was being discussed. "I haven't had one. . ." he broke off suddenly to contemplate it.

"_Ever,"_ I completed his sentence, my tone short, completely exasperated by him.

He was bloody maddening!

Dr Stewart only surveyed us with a small smile on his lips before he cleared his throat. "Okay, I'll have your bloods expressed through. They should be back around"—he checked his watch—"five."

**. . .**

"Are you kidding me, Edward?!" I turned to him, impatiently, once the doors of the elevator closed before us, and we were safely out of earshot from those still sitting in the waiting room—not to mention Mrs Reed. "Can you please stop mocking me!"

He turned to gaze at me, a crick forming on his brow the longer he did; as if he was trying to work me out. Then without a word he pulled me into his arms.

"I'm sorry, baby. I know this is stressing you out."

Taking a heavy breath, I abandoned my irritation and laid my head against his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart. I suddenly felt guilty for being so short with him; guilty for being the world's most horrendous wife and pushing him away through everything we'd gone through. Guilty, because I secretly liked when he teased me—and he knew I did.

"I love you," I whispered a moment later, becoming completely engulfed by emotion that I wasn't sure if I was going to cry, or faint from the close encounter I was having with the scent of him—that only a few days ago I loved.

He chuckled softly, muffling it through his nose; it vibrated against me, making me all but go limp against him. "I know you do, you big cheeseball, and if you puke over me, I'll kill you."

**. . . **

It was just after 3pm, the nausea I'd had all morning had finally passed, and with absolutely nothing in my stomach, I was starving. This was despite being so nervous about the results of the blood test I wasn't even sure I could eat.

"Do you want to have_ Maccas, _babe?" Edward asked me, completely straight faced as we headed in the direction of Emmett and Rose's house—a shadow of a smile creeping across his face that he was making a half-hearted attempt to suppress.

"Oh my god. . ." I sighed, lightly, lowering my head to cup my palm to my forehead.

"You love it," He grinned to himself, indicating left to turn into MacDonald's.

"God, no, I couldn't stomach that stuff! Let's go to Honey Hole."

Edward groaned, flicking off the indicator. "Alright, hang on and I'll chuck a u-ey."

"Edward!"

I usually loved Honey Hole, usually, but today I didn't last more than two minutes before I had to exit the restaurant. Or more to the point, _bolt _from the restaurant, before my empty stomach spilled all over the timber floor as we waited to order.

In the end, Edward ordered and we ate in the car. He bought me soup and fries, while he dug into a BLT that looked five inches thick. He was such a big eater that I often wondered where he put it all. In his hair, perhaps. I swear it grew three times faster than mine—or anyone's.

His hair that I knew he secretly loved, even though he complained about it being "unmanageable". I'd caught him checking out his hairline in the mirror several times, telling me his grandfather was "as bald as a billiard ball".

"Honey, what was your father's name?" I asked him, suddenly realising that I'd never once heard him mention it.

He turned to me, his mouth crammed full of sandwich. "That's pretty random, baby," he answered, after swallowing.

"I know," I shrugged, "but you've never told me, and Alice never said anything, e-either," I explained, faltering as his expression darkened at the mere mention of his sister's name.

"Edward," he answered, smiling slightly to himself. "His name was Edward."

"So you're . . . Edward _Junior_?" I asked, teasing him, before munching on another French fry. They tasted metallic.

"Very funny," he said dryly, but good naturedly, before adding. "Anyway, he hated it, so he went by his middle name for as long as I can remember."

"Well, what was his _middle name_?"

"Jack," he answered simply.

"Jack," I repeated, more or less to myself, before again meeting his gaze. "Did he look like you?"

"No, he looked like Emmett—_exactly_ like Emmett," he replied, before taking another huge bite out of his sandwich.

"How come you never talk about him? This is the most you've ever told me since . . . Sydney," I reminded him, tilting my head as I recalled that fateful night, ten years ago.

"_Sydney_," Edward echoed, his tone taking on an edge of nostalgia. "Jesus . . . and you were scared to death," he added, a smirk lighting up on his face.

"Well, yeah. . ." I said wryly. "I was a virgin, remember?"

"I doubt I'll ever forget," he mumbled more or less to himself, his smile fading and turning inward.

I nudged him playfully, before I gently breached, "Does it upset you to talk about your dad?"

He turned to fully face me, his gaze canvassing mine, before he shrugged a shoulder. "I guess, yeah. He was a hard bastard—he didn't put up with any of my shit." He scoffed beneath his breath. "He came down hard on me, a lot, but he was a good guy."

"Your mum told me once that you were exactly like him—personality wise," I admitted, just as Edward's expression smoothed out in surprise.

"When did she tell you that?"

"When you went to camp—after we came back from Australia."

"Oh, yeah. . . It was probably the reason she couldn't stand to have me around after he died." And for the briefest moment Edward's expression broke, before his face darkened and he severed my gaze.

"Oh . . . honey," I grabbed his hand, but he pushed his emotions back almost as suddenly.

"I was supposed to go with him—fishing," he admitted after a moment, as my breath drew in from the implications behind it, "but the sea was too rough that day so Dad changed his mind. I threw a fit and I told him I hated him. He replied, 'I hate you too, you little shit'. I'll-I'll never forget it." He smiled, but it was so completely raw and vulnerable that it broke my heart.

Reaching out, I cupped my hand to his cheek, but he only turned away, deliberately averting his face from mine.

"That . . . _does_ sound like you." I made light of it, in the absence of a proper response, and in return, it made Edward break into a conceding laugh.

"I don't know what kind of father I'm going to be, baby," he confessed after a pause, turning back to lock his eyes with mine, "but I'll probably end up being like him."

"That doesn't sound like a bad thing," I said softly.

"It won't be if we end up having a kid like me. I wouldn't let him talk to you like . . . the way I used to talk to my mother. I'd break the little asshole's neck." He was suddenly serious, his eyes burning with conviction and what appeared to be . . . regret.

I didn't say anything; I only gripped his hand in mine, almost afraid to breathe and break this momentum building within him. It was the most he'd ever spoken about his parents to me . . . _ever._

"Sometimes . . . I-I think—I mean, I understand what she was trying to do," he mumbled, stammering, before bowing his head and pressing his fingertips against his heavily ridged brow. "She just went about it the wrong way and fucked everything up."

"Do you mean . . . your mother?" I asked, tentatively.

He looked up at me again, his eyes continuing to burn with an emotion I didn't quite understand. "Yeah—don't get me wrong, what she did—what Alice did . . . but I get her motives behind it. I was completely fucking out of control. I. . ." But shaking his head to himself he let it go before turning back to his lunch and taking another large bite of his sandwich, absently; looking lost in thought.

"I think you would have outgrown all that anyway, honey. You were young—we were still teenagers," I tried to reason with him, but he only snorted softly, ironically, to himself.

"I might have."

"You _did_," I insisted. "You grew up—we both did."

He shook his head, appearing frustrated—that I didn't get where he was coming from, I wasn't sure. "My mother wanted to _force _me to grow up, and she knew taking you out of my life would do it. I grew up all right. . ." he replied, bitterly.

"Edward. . ."

He only continued; his tone heavy and seeped with remorse. "The day I came back—after I took off when you lost the first baby—Alice . . . she stopped looking at me like she used to. It was as if she'd given up on me, and my mother was just . . . _done_."

"Edward, it was eight years ago!" I burst, becoming impatient. "What's done is done—you can't keep torturing yourself over it. If you want to forgive Alice and your mother, just do it, but it means you have to let go of the past, as well."

Looking down, he frowned, before lightly shaking his head. "I'm not sure I can forgive them, but at the same time . . . I don't know." He released his breath, sounding defeated.

"_Honey_," I said more forcefully, before he turned to me, "it was _one_ moment in our lives that we both dealt with _really_ badly, but before that, you weren't out of control. You got 1300 in your SATs, and in that first year of college you didn't miss a single class! What did your mother want from you, exactly? To be perfect? Being a teenager means fucking up, and then learning from it!"

Again, he only held my gaze steadily, his brow slightly bunched, his eyes intensifying behind the building of emotion he was struggling with, and I wanted to kill Alice for doing this to him. For pushing him too far, _again_. "I suppose it was the fact that my mother had Search and Rescue looking for me, or that Alice wouldn't even look me in the eye, and you . . . you barely spoke to me."

I sighed. "I was angry at you, Edward, but I was a lot angrier that, for almost three weeks, you made me believe you were dead. Do you know what that did to me?" I was deadly serious, because it had been the worst seventeen days of my life. Worse than both miscarriages, and worse than Kel's death.

"I have an idea," he mumbled, conceding.

"It wasn't just you, honey._ I_ reacted just as badly," I attempted to justify his actions, my tone turning beseeching, because it wasn't solely his fault and I refused to let him beat himself up over it anymore. "That's why I went to Australia and stayed for six months. Not to punish you, or to break up with you, but because I knew I had to let go of my mother. When I found out I was pregnant, I was_ one hundred percent convinced _that I would turn into her."

He didn't say anything; he only expelled his breath brashly, before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

"I missed you every single day. I could barely breathe," I confessed, my tone wavering, "and what made it worse was that Alice kept convincing me I'd be better off if I concentrated only on myself and not speak to you."

With my eyes welling with tears, it was me who looked away this time, as shame filtered through me. I still questioned how I could have so easily allowed Alice to remove him from my life the way she had, and it would always haunt me.

Tipping my chin gently, Edward turned my face to meet his eyes. "_That's _what I can't forgive, baby!" he stressed, his voice husky but impassioned. "If it was just me, I would have accepted it, but they did it to you, as well. Your mother had just died, and you just lost a baby—on top of thinking I was dead—and fucking Alice took advantage of that. She took advantage of the fact that you were in a vulnerable place."

"Edward . . . what she did and why . . . it's _done_. Either we forgive them or we don't, but in the meantime we're not moving forward. We're stuck in the past," I attempted to appeal to him but I was beginning to feel dejected by it. That this entire conversation was another bad omen.

"I'm . . . I'm not sure how to," he disclosed, stammering, before dragging his fingers back through his hair; he sounded disheartened. "I mean, I can forgive them for what they did to me—for what I put everyone through, I deserved it—but not what they did to you."

I sighed, internally; he was halfway there, at least.

"Okay, let's put it this way," I suggested, tactfully."If Alice died tomorrow, would you be sorry you never made amends with her?"

He thought about it for a moment, a long moment, before he finally admitted, rubbing heavily at his forehead. "Yeah . . . I would."

"What about your mother?"

He half shrugged, nodding simultaneously. "Yeah, I mean, if anything _she did_ respect my wishes. I told her to never speak to me again and she hasn't. Alice, the pain in the fucking ass she is"—he huffed to himself, sarcastically—"she hasn't left me alone."

I scoffed shortly, in agreement, almost breaking into a grin. The entire fiasco was so exhausting and tiresome, but if truth be told, I had let go of it all the day Edward and I got married. I didn't want to start life with him with it hanging over us, but for Edward, it was always going to be harder. His emotions ran a lot deeper than mine, and I knew the longer he held onto it the longer it would continue to be detrimental to him. To both of us.

Bowing his head to mine for a moment, Edward pulled back, his eyes remaining torn. "Just tell me what I should do, baby."

Shaking my head, I smiled sadly. "I can't, honey."

"Fuck it. . ." he muttered, his expression darkening, but I knew he was frustrated more than anything. "How about we just move to Tasmania," he said lightly, a genuine smile lighting up on his face for the first time, since I'd rather naively decided to bring up his parents.

I only smiled along with him, before he slipped his arm around me, pulling me closer to him—as much as the confines of the front seat allowed. "I'm sorry, baby," he said softly, kissing me tenderly but briefly.

He still apologised way too much. He always had.

"Don't be sorry," I murmured, planting my lips to his neck, as that normally alluring scent of him continued to make me queasy. "I know how much it's eating away at you."

He kissed me one more time, before pulling back to gauge me. "I tell you what," he suggested, "If one, or both, of those little sputniks have stuck, I'll forgive them. But just promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"Don't have another _me and Alice_." And for what I could tell, he wasn't wholly joking.

I broke into a warm smile, half chuckling through my nose. "I think your sister has already taken care of that, babe."

"Did you just call me 'babe'?" he enquired, his brow quirking, his smile turning teasing.

"You're hearing things again," I replied, wryly.

**. . .**

Running into Alice today meant one thing: we were going to have to deal with her and Esme, once and for all. And for Edward's sake, I had to make sure the decision we made was the right one. The question was now becoming: if I was pregnant, did I want our child, or children, to have a relationship with their aunt and grandmother?

For me it was simple, without any emotion attachment blurring the objectivity to it. I hadn't forgiven Alice, per say, but I'd let it go to the point that what she'd done—what Mrs Cullen had done—to separate me and Edward no longer upset me. But in saying that, they weren't my family; they were Edward's, so I was able to disconnect myself from them a lot easier than it had taken me forgive my mother. With Renee it had taken twenty years, and I wasn't sure Edward had twenty years of that kind of stress and anxiety in him.

He'd self-destruct.

**. . . **

After we finished our late lunch, Edward and I drove around for a while; biding time until we expected to get Mrs Reed's phone call with my blood test results. And while both of us carried the weight of it, neither of us mentioned it. For me I could barely breathe, and Edward had gone completely silent; clutching my hand the entire time, only letting go to change gears.

This was what both lost pregnancies and two IVF cycles had come down to; whether we would be parents – to our biological children, at least.

And I wanted it more than anything I'd ever wanted in my entire life. As much as I'd reconciled with the reality that we might have to adopt a child, I wanted Edward's baby. Even if it was his exact clone, with all his unpredictability, short temper, and emotional volatility, because he was also the sweetest, funniest, most selfless person I'd ever known. Even when he was that "out of control" eighteen year old boy his mother was so intolerant of.

With my heart and soul I wanted that piece of both of us, forever.

We finally got the phone call at 5:30, just as we decided to stop stalling. Our plan was to stop in on Emmett and Rose, knowing full well we would find out the news in front of them. But it was getting late, and I was getting tired—which was making me motion sick again.

"Edward!" I exclaimed in a near whisper, after my phone rang, and Mrs Reed's number flashed on the screen.

He pulled to the side of the road so suddenly I had to brace myself from hitting the side window, before I was able to answer.

"Hello?" I uttered, barely able to find my voice, as my heart continued its tirade beneath my hand that I'd clutched instinctively at my chest.

"Mrs Cullen?" Mrs Reed's voice spoke cheerfully through the receiver just as Edward grabbed my hand away, squeezing it in his. "It's Victoria Reed." And she was definitely cheerful; usually the pending news of my blood tests was given in a sedate, business-as-usual tone. _Never_ cheerfully.

"Hello, Mrs Reed," I replied, my ears ringing; my hand that clutched the phone to my ear trembling almost beyond control.

"I'm going to put you out of your suspense, dear. I have the result of your pregnancy test—it's positive."

For a moment I wasn't sure I'd heard her properly, as a tsunami of emotion began to flood me. "It . . . _is_?" I asked in disbelief, my voice immediately hitching.

"Yes, it is, dear. Congratulations," she assured me, warmly.

"Oh my god," I spoke, so completely overrun I was practically sobbing. I was buzzing, and my heart, that was continuing to hammer relentlessly, felt lighter all of a sudden. Unburdened. Pulling my hand from Edward's impulsively, I placed it over my mouth, muffling for a second time, "Oh my god. . ."

"Congratulations, dear," Victoria repeated kindly, as I continued to sob freely down the receiver. "You'll need to come back for a second blood test in a couple of days. I have the 26th free. Is that good for you?" she asked, but I barely heard her. I could barely _conceive _what she was telling me.

"Yes, it is," I blurted, wiping at my tears clumsily. "_Thank you_."

I'm pretty sure I hung up on her without fully realising it, before turning to Edward. I was completely falling apart; I was sobbing uncontrollably, while my heart was pounding so fast and hard I was practically breathless. This was on top of attempting to come to terms with the sheer, overpowering sense of happiness and relief that was ploughing through me.

"_Honey_. . ." I cried, before my voice completely failed me, and all I could do was nod my head, over and over.

Edward's expression was full of anticipation, his eyes wide, before he broke into the broadest grin I'd seen from him in a long while. And while he was fast becoming inundated by it, as I was, all he could do was smile, his eyes glistening, before he pulled me to him; kissing me repeatedly.

"Can I say it now?" he asked, his voice thick and compromised, before he kissed me again, longer this time, with more control and tenderness.

"Yes. . ."

* * *

**A/N: What is this madness? They got happy news?  
Hope you enjoyed, and remember, if you want to, I like hearing feedback, good or bad. I will reply to all reviews - anonymous ones included; at the bottom of anons I will edit to add my reply.  
MWAH xoxo**

* * *

**Chewy - bubble gum.  
Chuck a sickie - have a sick day from work.  
Chuck a u-ey - do a u-turn.  
Maccas - Macdonalds.  
**

**I'm assuming you all clued on, but just in case. . . And yes Aussies really say that. We are bogan.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Bloody hell it's been two months since I've updated. If I have any followers left, hellooooo. This time I do actually have a decent excuse—well aside from the general feelings of can't be fucked that I usually wrestle with. I had Gestational Diabetes when I was preggo with my youngest son. The doc told me I'd have a higher chance of ending up with type 2 later on if I didn't look after myself. I was all pffffft, I'm fit and healthy, that will never happen to me. Famous last words. A couple of months ago I started feeling crap. I mean really crap. So thirsty that it was never quenched, and all around "please kill me". I went to the doc's and sure enough, my glucose levels were through the roof. After further tests it was concluded that I was pre-diabetic. Yeah, great, right? I loathed injecting myself. Loathed! But the doc was convinced that I could maintain it with diet, so i was put on a strict Ketogenic eating plan. Zero sugar, ZERO, and no more than 50 grams of carbs a day—carbs only found in leafy greens. Plus, I had to give up Pepsi Max, and anyone who knows me, knows I love my Pepsi Max more than my husband and offspring combined *wheezes*. It was hard. Hard as in I was so hostile to the point my husband took extra shifts at work to avoid me. The upside? I could have fat**—**a lot of fat. 80 grams of fat a day, but it has to be naturally occurring. No big macs, dang! Cheese, butter, fatty meat, cream... etc. Holy shit, I was convinced I was going to end up the size of a Mac truck. And what they didn't tell me after I started this diet, was that I would get what's known as the "keto flu" and something else known as "keto brain fog", which happens when your brain is starved of glucose. Brain fog? Pffft if brain fog means you'll turn into a drooling imbecile, than yes, I had brain fog. I swear I lost 50% of my IQ in a day. So I stuck with this diet, while weight started literally falling off me. I have lost 5 kilos in 6 weeks, seriously. On fat? How is that possible? Could it be that we've been bullshitted to our entire lives with the whole food pyramid thing? Mmm-hmmm... Anywho after your body gets over it's habit of glucose fuelling, something happens. You become "ketogenic adapted" or "fat adapted". Your body starts producing enzymes to use fat as its preferred fuel, and you start having endless amounts of energy. Not to mention when the mitochondria in your brain that is awakened by fat fuelling... Holy shit I got all my 55 IQ points back and more! My brain is sharp as a tack now. It's awesome.  
So needless to say I rewrote this entire chapter in one afternoon. Fubar, but hey, I aint complaining.**

**Alrigty, if you flounced all that crap above, I don't blame you, so no more rambling and let's get this shit started.  
MWAH, love ya, you three gorge peeps who still read this fic.**

* * *

**Because of You**  
**Chapter 32**

**Bella's POV**

For two of the three days I stayed with Emmett and Rose, I was horribly ill all morning; made worse by the fact that Edward wasn't with me. He'd gone back home early the next morning, after we'd got our positive pregnancy test, to make it to work.

Being so sick without him made me anxious and uneasy, and this was on top of the absolute emotional roller-coaster I was on. I was so deliriously happy I could scarcely contain it, but at the same time I knew what it was like to be pregnant and then lose it everything. I was suddenly terrified it would happen again.

After the second day of perpetual throwing up, and causing Rose so much stress she missed two days of school, she decided to google morning sickness remedies. She'd only suffered with mild nausea when she was pregnant with EJ, she'd confessed, so the level of sickness I was suffering with made her worried I'd dehydrate and then miscarriage.

I hated to be such an inconvenience. I'd already arrived on her doorstep completely unprepared. I literally had nothing, no change of clothes, a toothbrush, nothing. Rose was gracious about it, not to mention proactive. She'd supplied me with all the essential toiletries I'd need within an hour of arriving, not to mention giving me her (for emergency purposes) packet of new, unopened underwear. I had to hand it to her, she was organised to the point of making it an art form. And despite all her past reservations about pregnancy and babies—concerning EJ most especially—Rose appeared genuinely excited for us.

On the morning of the third day, and day of my second blood test, Rose woke me up at 4am—an hour before my morning sickness usually started—with a cup of ginger tea and a packet of Saltines.

"Bella," she softly roused me, after switching on the bedside lamp.

I sat up groggily, instinctively turning to Edward, when I was quickly reminded where I was.

"Drink this, and eat a couple of these crackers every half hour or so. It's supposed to help with your nausea," she whispered, motioning to the box of Saltines that she'd placed beside the steaming mug on the side table.

"You woke up at 4am for this?" I said warmly, still half asleep before I reached for the cup of tea. There was no sign of my morning sickness yet, I realised gratefully, as I took a hesitant sip.

"I get up at four every morning," she admitted. "It's the only time I can get any work done before the Son of Sam wakes up. You have nine months to get as much sleep as you can." She smirked this time, and I chuckled.

"Thanks, Rose."

"I brought you a bucket, just in case," she added, lifting it up by the handle in emphasis.

I groaned out loud. "What a gross house guest I've been."

"Please," Rose grinned almost shrewdly, "after five years with EJ, literally nothing can gross me out anymore."

Whether it was wishful thinking, a placebo effect, or my numerous prayers being answered, I did not throw up that morning—once. The nausea was still as prevalent, but the Saltines did appear to keep it from progressing into anything more, and from that moment on, Rose officially became my favourite person.

**. . .**

Edward arrived just before noon, for our 12:30 appointment, and I wasn't sure whether I was just an emotional wreck, or I'd missed him more than I usually would have, but the moment he walked through the door, I all but literally propelled myself into his arms.

"Miss me, did you, buttercup?" He chuckled, his voice warm, before I felt his lips press to my temple, where he hummed out his breath for a moment.

"What did you and my hairball get up to without me?" I asked, after kissing him repeatedly for a moment, and being put back on my feet.

"The usual. We watched porn and called up a couple of prostitutes," he joked, laughing softly when I whacked him. "How's the petri dish going—still hanging on?"

I sighed, heavily, not as exasperated as I normally would have been in light of how much I'd missed him, not to mention the said 'petri dish' presently nestled inside my body. "Oh my god," I mumbled lightly.

He laughed again, the smooth huskiness of it running along my skin and reminding me once again how badly I did without him. Though, sometimes, I definitely had to remind myself why I loved him more than I valued my own life.

"You hungry?" he enquired, his brows raised.

"Not really," I replied, "but I want to get some vitamins."

"I already got you some," he admitted, after taking my hand and leading me back outside to the car. I turned to him, raising a surprised brow in his direction, when he added, "Okay, I didn't _technically _get them. Ang brought them over yesterday, along with a big basket full of stuff."

"Awww," I murmured to myself. Ang was such a sweetheart. She'd literally squealed down the phone after I told her we were pregnant, and then promptly burst into tears; before apologising and quickly reminding me how the pregnancy hormones had turned her into a basket case. She was six months pregnant now, and was having a gender reveal party in a couple of weeks.

Six months. . . It seemed almost inconceivable that I'd ever make it that far.

"How's the morning sickness going, baby?" Edward asked, turning to me with a smile that was hedged with concern.

"Better, I think. I didn't throw up at all today. Rose has cured me," I informed him, pulling the near empty box of Saltines out of my bag in emphasis. I had to get more. _A lot_ more.

"With Saltines?" he asked dubiously, his brow quirking, and breaking into a broad grin at my replying scowl.

Oh, how he loved to mock me.

After releasing a frustrated breath, I conceded, because he did have a point. "I wouldn't have believed it either, but it works, so I'm not about to question it."

With his grin remaining intact, he slotted his key into the ignition, the air shooting through his nose at the same time, that I had a suspicion he was humouring me.

I only shook my head. He was lucky he was so pretty.

**. . .**

"By the degree of morning sickness you're experiencing, Bella, I'm not too concerned about your hCG levels," Dr Stewart, explained as he pulled a syringe from its wrapping, preparing to draw more blood from me. "At five weeks you should be anywhere from five hundred to ten thousand units per millimetre, but anywhere in between and I'll be happy," he continued, before wrapping the tourniquet around my upper arm, as I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and gripping Edward's hand; reminding myself that our baby would be worth every blood test I needed, every needle, and every bit of pain and suffering.

"Any bleeding?" he asked, just as he inserted the needle.

"No," I answered, my voice restricted.

"Cramping?"

I shook my head.

"Fainting?"

"No," I whispered this time.

"Sleeping well?"

"Yes," I replied, just as Edward scoffed softly to himself.

"She's the world's worst sleeper," he elaborated to the doctor's questioning eyebrow a moment later.

"I'm sleeping okay," I insisted, sighing to myself.

"Good," Dr Stewart said simply, helping me back upright and off the bed, before he made his way back behind his desk. "Well okay," he began after Edward and I were seated again before him, "I think it's time to book you in for a sonogram. Let's aim for around your six week mark, shall we?" Rising his brows he flashed me a broad grin, just as a flood of emotion overtook me.

I'd never made it to a sonogram before. . .

Then, out of nowhere, and before I could prevent it, tears welled in my eyes. "O-kay," I stammered, my voice catching, before I hastily wiped them away.

This only made the doctor's smile widen and turn warm, just as Edward grabbed my hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.

"Victoria, can you book Mrs Cullen in for a sonogram on the eleventh of March, please?" he spoke into his phone's intercom.

There was a moment of static, before Victoria answered, "Certainly, I have 1pm free."

"All good?" he put it to me.

I only nodded, trying to keep myself from completely falling apart.

"That's fine," he spoke to Victoria, before turning back to us. "I'll get the blood results back to you this afternoon, and all things going well, I'll see you back here in March." His smile was encouraging this time.

**. . .**

"Awww, baby," Edward softly teased me as we stepped into the elevator to leave, turning to pull me into his arms.

Clinging to him, I took an unsteady breath, resting my forehead against his chest. "I can still barely believe it, and I keep waiting for the bubble to burst," I admitted softly.

Wrapping his arms more securely around me, Edward pressed his lips to the top of my head. "It's not going to happen this time, baby," he murmured, and for the first time since we'd started this entire IVF fiasco, I believed him.

It wasn't.

**. . . **

Before heading back home, we stopped off at Denny's for lunch first. Edward hadn't eaten, and it made me wonder what he'd been eating while I was away. The only thing he could put together was a ham and cheese sandwich, after all, and despite me making him promise that he'd let Ang and Sue feed him at the restaurant, I knew he wouldn't. Mr bloody proud!

He wolfed down his burger and fries; I only watched, shaking my head lightly to myself as I nibbled on another Saltine.

"Baby, you need to eat something better than those things," he spoke up after a moment, his mouth still crammed full of food.

"Edward!" I protested, repulsed.

He only quirked his brow as if it was irrelevant.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to travel on a full stomach," I explained. "I'll eat something for dinner."

He gauged me for a moment, before his mouth twitched in obvious secret amusement. "Just have some of my chips, then."

I huffed openly to myself, before flashing him a good natured, albeit, cynical expression. "Honey, that was old when we were eighteen. I don't call them _chips _anymore."

His grin turned toothy, becoming affectionate. "You do when you're not thinking about it."

I only expelled my breath, letting it go. "Shut up and tell me what happened the last three days. Has Jessica had her baby, yet?"

He thought about it for a fraction of a second, before swallowing his food and shrugging a shoulder. "No idea. My sister rang me up, though," he added, as if it was no big deal, before breaking my gaze to take a gulp of his drink.

I only stared at him for a moment, trying to better ascertain his reaction to it, before groaning. But he was giving away nothing. "What did you do?" I asked him, resigned.

"I ignored her at first, but then. . ." he looked down at his near empty plate of food and shrugged again, "I called her back."

"You . . . _did_?" I asked, surprised. In fact, it was more in disbelief.

"Remember what I said a couple of days ago? If you were pregnant, I'd forgive them," he reminded me, his eyes serious; though, there was no denying how tense he was suddenly becoming.

"Honey," I began, softly, reaching over to grab his hand, "I'm not going to hold you to that."

"This shit has to end sometime, baby," he mumbled, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. "In a way . . . I'm-I'm relieved. . . It's been fucking exhausting."

I only nodded, watching him carefully, worried about him. "What did she want?" I asked after a moment, when I was sure that he was being completely honest with me.

"To know if you were pregnant. I told her you were and she started bawling." His tone turned cynical, before he rolled his eyes.

I smirked, but the nervous energy remained constant in my stomach. "Then what—because I know with Alice it's never that simple."

"She asked if we could all _hang out_," he replied, his voice becoming sarcastic.

"Oh god," I mumbled, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. "What did you tell her?" I asked, apprehensively.

"I told her not to push her fucking luck," he said, lightly this time, before openly scoffing.

"Alice. . . " I mumbled, shaking my head to myself, and despite myself, despite the last two years of carrying around so much animosity for her, I broke into a small smile. It was the first time in so long I was able to separate what had happened and remember her as she once was. But then, I doubted I was even capable of any kind of anger at that moment.

Taking a deep breath, Edward released it heavily, an almost ironic smile forming across his face, before he once more shrugged. "I don't know, baby—let's just have this kid first, and then we'll deal with all that other crap."

I nodded, before deterring him away from the subject of his sister. "Well, I prefer 'kid' to 'petri dish'."

He chuckled, softly, through his nose, completely relaxing again.

Well, let's face it, after being married to Edward for little over a year, I had finally become a master at defusing situations with him, before he blew up.

Victoria called forty minutes out from Forks. My hCG levels had increased, and everything looked good.

**. . . **

Back at home again, life went on as usual. Edward went back to work, and I returned to the restaurant, packing several boxes of Saltines with me each day. I all but walked into a baby shower the moment I stepped through the door the first day back. Ang and Sue had tried to keep it quiet, knowing I didn't really want to start advertising it until after we'd had the sonogram, but with a small town like Forks, it was hard to keep anything secret. Pink and blue balloons, along with at least three dozen cards, teddy bears and various stuffed animals, adorned one entire wall of the restaurant. Ang almost barrelled me over, while all day, and for the next week after, I was hugged and congratulated by practically the entire population of Forks. It helped keep me distracted, but the wait for the ultra-sound left me feeling like I was in suspension. I kept imagining all the terrible things that could go wrong. The baby had died, it wasn't forming properly; there wasn't a baby at all, and it had all been a terrible mistake.

I knew I was just being a typical neurotic newly pregnant woman, but I didn't want to burden Ang with it. And it wasn't as though I could turn to Edward for support, either, because things always turned too physical with us more often than not, and I didn't want to risk anything. This was despite knowing that sex wouldn't harm the baby, and after Dr Stewart rather tactfully informed me that if I was going to miscarry, nothing could prevent it. But still. . .

Poor Edward, my body still responded to him as much as it ever did, and a couple of times—in the early hours of the morning, just after he'd returned home from work and crawled into bed with me—I turned to him, letting things go a little too far, before I was forced to rein myself back in.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said, beseechingly, guilt ridden and full of remorse, after Edward pulled his burning hot body from over mine, and flopped down on the bed beside me.

"You're killing me here, woman," he mumbled, but despite his frustration there was warmth to his tone, and I knew deep down he understood where I was coming from.

He'd gone through all the hell of IVF right along with me, so _of course_ he knew.

"You're not going to let me anywhere near you for nine months, are you?" he muttered, draping his heavy arm around my waist begrudgingly.

Nine months? Bloody hell, I didn't have that much will power.

I half chuckled, because let's face it, that was just flat out ridiculous. "Of course I will, but just maybe not until I'm passed twelve weeks?" I put it to him as a question, pleading with him to understand.

He groaned, and then again, louder, as if he'd suddenly done the calculations in his head. It's not that I could blame him, or anything; we hadn't gone longer than six weeks since . . . we were apart.

"We can do other stuff," I promised him, my tone turning coy, as I trailed my fingers along his bare chest, resting my palm against the light covering of his hair and feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath it.

"What other stuff?" he mumbled sleepily, pulling himself up to rest his head against my chest.

I whispered it in his ear, making his eyes snap open in surprise, as a sly grin spread slowly across his face.

Edward and I didn't often do _other stuff_. Call me old fashioned, but I was more than satisfied with just being beneath his hot and sweaty body, whether in the shower, bed or on the bathroom vanity. Occasionally we'd try me on top again, but my coordination never really improved much, so was it any wonder what I was promising Edward surprised him.

"Hello, _Mummy_," he teased me, before reaching up to cover his mouth over mine.

**. . .**

Even with the Saltines and driving with the windows completely down, the trip to Seattle for my ultra-sound was still arduous. Edward had to stop for me to throw up three times, but then I wasn't completely sure it was wholly due to motion sickness or whether it was nerves. I was a complete wreck, and didn't sleep a wink the night before. I wasn't sure what I expected, but it suddenly felt too much for everything to go well, let alone the baby being completely fine—or having two completely healthy babies.

"Honey, relax," Edward urged me gently, wrapping his arms around me from behind as we waited for the ferry to dock.

"I'm okay," I mumbled, not even remotely convincing as I focused more on what he'd just called me. Edward rarely if ever called me "honey", and only when he was worried.

As much as he was trying to reassure me, I knew he was just as anxious. And when Edward was this concerned, I was more. I couldn't help it; everything he felt immediately rebounded through me.

We were early. I was guessing Edward was expecting a lot more pit stops than what I'd actually needed. Thankfully, Dr Stewart didn't make us wait too long, before he called us and led us over to the radiology room.

The room was darkened, and after undressing and pulling a gown on over my underwear, as instructed, I laid myself down on the bed, trembling uncontrollably; even when the doctor pulled a blanket over me, to my hips. Edward grabbed my hand, his clammy palm wrapped around mine tightly, but it did nothing to calm me.

"Okay, let's see what we have," Dr Stewart said with an encouraging smile, before carefully pulling up my gown and squirting a glob of gel on my abdomen. It was cold, and as he quickly apologised to me for it not being heated, he began to run the wand around, digging it into my skin several times.

He turned to the screen and began turning different nobs and buttons, when all of a sudden a rapid pulsating, whooshing sound began to echo around the room.

Edward, obviously understanding immediately what it was, broke into a broad grin, almost in sync with Dr Stewart, who then turned the screen so I could see it.

"There we go," he said, pointing out what looked like a bubble with a jellybean against one side of it; a jelly bean with an almost vibrating centre.

Its heart beat. . .

I drew in my breath, just as tears sprang to my eyes. Its heart was beating at 160 beats per minute. Strong and healthy, while it measured six weeks and one day, Dr Stewart explained to us.

One day ahead. My due date was November 6th.

"Everything looks good, Mrs Cullen," Dr Stewart concluded, wiping the gel from my belly with a broad grin, as the tears continued to spill effortlessly down my face.

I could only nod in response, becoming suddenly engulfed by an avalanche of emotion.

It was what I'd been hoping and dreaming for for so long, but never let myself fully believe. Even now it still felt too good to be true, but I knew one thing immediately; I loved our little jelly bean already, and more than I ever expected to feel.

Squeezing my hand, Edward bent down to plant his lips against my brow, before he attempted to wipe my face dry.

"See, baby, I told you you had nothing to worry about," he murmured to me, only his voice was wavering—his hands were shaking—before he planted his lips gently but briefly to mine.

I nodded again—it's all I could manage—before, half laughing shakily through my tears, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He'd put up with a lot from me over the last year, even the last two years, almost as soon as we'd found each other again, but he'd remained rock solid; no matter how much grief I'd put him through. And right at that moment, I was suddenly struggling to process exactly how much I loved him.

"This is when I release you to your obstetrician, Bella. Do you have one? Would you like me to refer you to one closer to home?" the doctor enquired, back in his office, his smile refusing to wane, as he handed me several more tissues.

"Yes, I have one," I answered, wiping my eyes pitifully, before Edward interjected, sharply.

"He sent her to clinic_ useless_, so if you could refer us to another one, that'd be great."

Surveying Edward for a moment, a small smile pulled on the doctor's lips before he turned back to me. "I can definitely recommend several." And with that said, he pulled out a notebook and began writing several names and numbers on it, before ripping the paper from the binder and handing it to me. "I'll write you up referrals for all four of these, but I highly recommend Dr Maggie Kendrick. She's had two children through IVF, so she can empathise with what you've been through."

Flashing him a grateful smile, I folded it carefully and put it inside my purse, before Edward and I got to our feet; just as Dr Stewart did the same. Then after taking Edward's hand, he took me into his arms.

"Congratulations, Bella. I hope everything goes well for you," he said softly, before pulling me back and smiling warmly.

"Thank you so much, Dr Stewart," I said, my voice threatening to break again. _Thank you_ just didn't seem enough, though, but then nothing would _ever _be enough. How could I ever thank this man for what he'd given us?

Then for the last time, we paid for the consultation and sonogram, signed off on all the paperwork, accepted Victoria's repeated congratulations, and then left.

"Jesus—fuck!" Edward said, expelling his breath heavily, after we'd left the building, before pulling me against him.

I wasn't entirely sure what he was expressing, but I was fairly certain a big part of it was relief. Relief that it was successful, that it was over. . .

I was still lost for words, for the most part, and not even close to being in the right frame of mind to start analysing it. I was overloaded, overrun, and completely drowning in it all, and the only thing I could process at the moment was how happy I was.

"It's all up to you, now, chickadee," Edward murmured against my hair, before stopping us both and turning to me, his smile becoming tender. "You know how amazing I think you are, don't you?"

I broke into an immediate smile, that was a little too affected, before I released my breath, every last particle of it. "You are such a sap," I teased him.

"We going to do some more of that 'other stuff' when we get home—to celebrate?" he joked, cocking an altogether too sure of himself eyebrow; though a large part of him was 100% serious.

I laughed this time, leaning into him and smothering it against his jacket. "If you're lucky, you dork."

He chuckled, curling his arm around my neck as we continued walking to the car. "Having my baby, what a wonderful way of saying how much you love me," he started singing, completely teasing me, like the absolute goofball he was.

"Oh my god, Edward—stop it!" I insisted, shaking my head.

He hummed it instead, laughing every time I turned to roll my eyes at him, but I wasn't about to stop him. This was the most relaxed I'd seen him, I think . . . _ever._

**. . . **

A week later was Angela and Ben's gender reveal party, and when Edward and I pulled up out front of their house, we quickly realised how many people had showed up. This was the first kind of "baby related" party Edward and I had ever attended, and I recognised most of the cars of all the young couples and families of Forks, and on the outskirts, parked along both sides of the road. Jake and Leah, included; not to mention Uncle Billy's police cruiser.

Just as we found a place to park, it naturally started to rain, and huffing with irritation, Edward turned to me. "Go ahead of me, baby. I'll get the present out of the trunk." We'd bought a portable cot; something Ang had said she didn't have.

I was all but forced to run and escape the intensifying storm, and when I arrived on the doorstep, the door opened before I rang the bell.

"Bella!" Mrs Weber, Angela's mother, greeted me brightly, quickly opening the screen door for me to enter. "Pink or blue?"

"Uh. . . " I stalled for a moment, before realisation sunk in. Seven weeks pregnant and already I felt like half my brain cells had gone dormant. "Blue," I finally answered, before she hung a blue lei around my neck, then wrote my name in the "boy" column, before ushering me completely inside.

"Bella," a deep, familiar voice spoke from behind me, as I made my way to the kitchen to greet Ang.

I turned around and found myself gazing up at Sam, who just then flashed me a warm, easy going grin. That was the downside of a town as small as Forks; there was no way of ever avoiding things like "exes". Not that there was ever any awkwardness between us—or with me and Emily. I'd known the entire time I was with him that we weren't quite right for each other, so when we parted it was out of mutual respect. I was genuinely happy for him when he met and married Emily

"Hey, Sam," I replied, warmly, leaning in slightly as he bent down to kiss my cheek.

"It's good to see you, Bella," he acknowledged. "Would you like to see my little girl?"

"Oh," I began, surprised, "I had no idea Emily had had her yet."

"She was born a week ago tomorrow," he replied, turning and motioning Emily over to us.

I remember Sam telling me once he'd like a daughter. He was one of five brothers, and no sisters, and after spending most of his time coaching boys' Little League on the reservation, he would often state that he was "all boy'd out".

Emily approached us, carrying a little pink bundle, with a beaming smile lit up on her face, before she angled her so I could see her little face.

"Oh. . ." I whispered, suddenly overcome. "She's beautiful. What did you name her?"

"Ariana," Emily replied, smiling down at her tenderly.

"She's so sweet. Congratulations, guys."

"Thank you, Bella, and we hear congratulations are in order for you too," Sam added.

"Yeah. . ." I mumbled, an involuntary smile breaking across my face, as my hand all but subconsciously splayed over my stomach.

"Oh, Bella," Emily burst, brightly. "You must be so happy—you and Edward."

"We are," I replied, softly, before suddenly looking around for him, but seeing only Angela instead. "Okay, well, I should say hi to Ang. Congrats again, you guys."

I walked not five feet forward before running into Jessica, carrying another pink bundle.

"Bella—hi!" she greeted me, cheerfully. "I was hoping you were coming."

"Hey, Jess," I replied, accepting the kiss she placed on my cheek warmly. It still felt so foreign, after all, that Jessica and I were actually friends. She'd hated me in high school. In fact, she'd made my life hell.

"This is Madison." She held her baby out for me to see, before promptly placing her into my arms.

She looked exactly like Jessica, it was almost uncanny, and of course she was as sweet as you could imagine.

"Oh, gosh," I murmured to myself, more and more overrun by all these newborns. "She's beautiful."

"Isn't she," Jessica agreed, before wiping away the ooze of spit-up that started to drool from her daughter's mouth. "Damn I hope she doesn't have reflux like Pay," she added, just as I was thinking the same thing—not to mention that designated seating area for the Crowleys at the restaurant that I never got around to installing.

"Congrats, Jess. Two girls. Tyler will be getting grey hairs," I joked, happy to cradle her baby in my arms for a little bit longer. I thought it would make my jelly bean seem more real, but all it did was make it more unfathomable. It seemed like another lifetime away that I'd be holding our baby.

She chuckled, nodding. "I know, poor thing. How are you? You must be right in the middle of morning sickness."

"Yeah," I admitted, wrinkling my nose at the mere thought of it. "It isn't fun."

"Well, try not to forget that as bad as you feel, it's actually a good sign that everything is going as it should," she conveyed, smiling in empathy.

"Thanks, Jess," I said, sincerely, thinking it over for a moment. It made definite sense.

Baby Madison spit up again, this time splattering me in the process, and almost on impulse, I held her away from me.

"Ugh," Jessica moaned, taking her from my arms, "the joys of motherhood."

I only chuckled before glancing down at the spit-up that was oozing down my shirt; the smell immediately made my stomach churn.

Oh god, and I'd forgotten my Saltines. . .

Placing my palm tightly over my mouth, I glanced around hastily for Edward. Luckily, Ang rescued me in time, whisking me off to the bathroom, where she helped clean up my vomit-soaked shirt. Thankfully, I didn't add to it.

"Ugh, do all babies smell this bad," I groaned, keeping my nose safety averted as Ang continued wiping away the foul-smelling regurgitated milk.

"No, I think that's just the Crowley's kids," she joked, chuckling softly to herself, before adding, "The upside is Jessica bottle feeds, otherwise this would be her breast milk all over you." And with that she laughed louder.

I only shook my head, my eyes catching her bulging belly, and without thinking about it, I placed my palm flush against it.

"Is he kicking?" Ang asked in surprise, clearly inadvertently, before she placed both of her hands over mine.

"_He_?" I quirked a suspicious eyebrow at her, before she removed her hands and clamped them over her mouth. "You said you didn't know!"

"Well, no, not exactly. _Ben_ doesn't know, but this time I cracked and asked the sonographer. You guessed right. . ." she added sheepishly, referring to my blue lei.

I only rolled my eyes, before a huge smile spread across my face. "That's awesome, Ang. A little boy."

"I know," she said softly, her smile turning inward, her hands moving back to her belly, before her eyes met mine and turned almost shrewd. "At least now, with one of each, I can stop."

After being deodorised and blow-dried, but still convinced I smelled like curdled milk, I accompanied Ang to the kitchen where she kept me close by, feeding me Animal Crackers as a consolation to Saltines. I played with Lilly for the most part, keeping her out of harm's way and clear of all the bodies. I found I was more at ease with her than with pukey newborns. But then I was always partial to Lilly. She was the prettiest little thing in existence, and so cheeky.

I'd caught sight of Edward several times, and with me hanging with Ang, and the rest of the "mother's group", he appeared content to stay with Ben, Jake, Mr Weber and Uncle Billy. Though, I often caught his gaze from across the room, where he'd tilt his head and mouth, "you okay?"

I only nodded, flashing him my best "stop being such a sap" smirk I could manage; making him shake his head to himself. He was already being so over-protective, and I was barely two months pregnant. But in turn, whatever the hell these pregnancy hormones were doing to me, I was suddenly seeing my husband in a brand new light. A new light that was beginning to surprise me. I was well aware of what a handsome devil he was, but it seemed my body was only just tuning in. It was all I could do most mornings not to tear his boxers off with my teeth. I was barely hanging on, and my "no sex until 12 weeks" vow was all but in shredded ruins.

A few hours later, and after putting Lilly down for a nap, I was almost needing one myself. Of course, Edward, ever in tune, caught my eye and motioned me over to him.

"Can we go home soon? This is the most boring fucking party I've ever been to in my life," he bent down and murmured into my ear.

"Edward," I whispered, trying to fight off my emerging grin. He had such a way with words, after all, but I suddenly had a vision of our two year old running around parroting "fuck me sideways" every ten minutes.

He took a breath, humming with it. "You look buggered, buttercup—Jesus, baby, what the hell is that smell? Were you sick?" he suddenly enquired, his eyes burning with concern, while his expression twisted, repulsed.

"No, it wasn't me. It was Jessica's baby," I explained, smiling wryly to myself.

"Fuck," he muttered, almost sounding genuine, "is that what we're in for?"

I only whacked him. "Stop it."

He chuckled gently, before curling his arm around my neck and nudging me further against him. "So I met Sam. . . " he spoke up after a moment, sounding completely . . . indifferent.

I tensed a fraction, before turning to him. "Awkward?" I asked him, my expression pained.

He shrugged. "Nah, he's a good guy."

I only gazed at him for a moment, attempting to read him, before nodding in agreement. "He is. They just had a baby. . ."

"Yeah, I know. He showed me. Squished up little thing," he said lightly, muffling his laughter through his nose; adding after I threw him an exasperated expression, "I'm sorry, baby, but newborns look like gremlins."

I only sighed, shaking my head to myself, but didn't reply.

"But ours won't be," he spoke into my ear, the amusement clearly still behind his voice, before he pressed his lips to my neck. "Some _other stuff_ tonight?" he put to me covertly, before planting his lips to my shoulder.

Bloody hell, I'd been unwittingly spoiling him.

"No more _other stuff,"_ I answered, lowering my voice. "_Regular stuff_ is back on."

He froze for a moment, and when I turned to gauge his reaction, his face had smoothed out in surprise. "You sure?" he asked, his voice almost catching.

He made me laugh, and reaching up to kiss his cheek, I nudged him in the ribs. "Bloody hell, husband. What's it been? Two weeks?"

"It's felt like two damn years," he murmured against my skin. "Fuck, I love you."

He was close to turning into a puddle of water. Anyone would think Edward was the one tripping on _hCG_.

I scoffed softly, inwardly, trying to hide the fact that I found him way too irresistible, that even his usual crass-self had me almost literally seeing stars.

"Honey!" I rebuked him, completely feigned, of course, and way too late. "We're at a baby shower."

"When's it over? Seriously, even Jake is close to tearing his hair out," he added, nodding his head toward Jake in emphasis.

Following his gaze, I found Jake through the crowds, immediately grinning to myself. He was repeatedly ripping at his forehead; clearly bored out of his mind.

"Soon," I promised him, clearing the laughter from my throat.

He only sighed, finished the can of coke that he'd been clutching in his hand, before wrapping both his arms around my waist.

"Do you know what Sam said to me?" he asked me simply, several moments later, and again I couldn't decipher his mindset.

"What?" I asked, puzzled, not turning to him, this time.

"He said he was glad I was able to take the sadness from your eyes," he relayed, and by the tone of his voice, he was just as confused by it, himself. Though, why, I wasn't sure.

"Oh. . ." was my only reply, as I chewed my bottom lip, becoming lost in thought. The _heavy stuff _behind my eyes . . . Sam always commented on it, and in reality, it was that very same "heavy stuff" that was the reason why we would have never worked.

"What was that sadness, baby?" Edward asked me, seriously, this time. "Your mother?"

"No, it wasn't my mother," I answered. Surely he wasn't this clueless.

"Kel. . . ?" he offered, sounding more and more uncertain.

"Honey, seriously? You really don't know?" I stated, turning to gaze at him, dubiously.

It was then that recognition sparked in his eyes, before his expression turned almost afflicted. "Awww, baby. . . The sadness was _me_?"

"Who else would it have been?" I said softly, conceding.

He turned me to fully face him, before planting his lips to mine, briefly, but tenderly. "That's going to fuck me up for a while," he mumbled more or less to himself, his forehead creasing heavily.

"Still want to _hang out_ with Alice?" I asked him, lightly, again attempting to divert him away.

His expression almost completely darkened, before he scoffed to himself, seemingly letting it go. "If we don't find out what's between this kid's legs in five minutes I'm dragging you out of here."

As it was, Ben and Ang announced the reveal not thirty seconds later. We all assembled in the backyard, where a large box was waiting, covered in pink and blue wrapping. Ang had already told me what was going to happen. After they opened the box, balloons would float out in the colour corresponding with their baby's gender.

There was some last minute ballot checking—"boy" was presently ahead by three—before Ang and Ben thanked everyone for coming; delaying the reveal deliberately and threatening to make the inward groan I could feel in Edward's chest become audible. I'd given up trying to shush him, though.

Then, with both their hands on the bow tie on top, Ang and Ben pulled; the box opened and half a dozen blue balloons floated out and up into the sky.

Everyone cheered, even Edward—though, I suspected his was completely feigned—while Ben almost appeared to have an aneurysm from sheer elation.

I was caught up in the moment, smiling broadly, before I felt it fade slowly from my face and become replaced with a frown—suddenly wondering if Edward would ever react so passionately over our baby.

"Should I be concerned by your lack of excitement for all things babies?" I asked him; though, I wasn't wholly teasing him, this time.

"I'm excited about ours. Anyone else's I couldn't give a fuck," he admitted, whispering in my ear.

I only rolled my eyes. "Oh my god. . ."

He chuckled. "I'm kidding, buttercup. I _like _Lilly, but that pukey kid of Jessica's, not so much, and that cross-eyed kid over there, definitely not."

"Edward!" I burst, attempting, and almost failing, to keep my voice hushed. "You can't say that!"

Sometimes, with Edward's complete lack of tact and bluntness, not to mention his fondness for a certain "f" word, I had to remind myself that for ten hours a day he was actually a paramedic.

"Why not?" he asked, his grin pushing broadly across his face.

For at least the fiftieth time that afternoon I sighed to myself, focusing back on Ben and Ang. They were both over the moon, despite Ang's convincing displays of shock and surprise, but it was Ben who was clearly the more excited.

"Honey?" I said, becoming more and more distracted.

"Hmmm?" he murmured from behind me, and from the sound of his voice, it was spoken with a large piece of cake in his mouth.

"Will you be as excited as Ben if we have a boy?"

"I think I'll buy a gun," he replied, swallowing thickly.

I huffed shortly. "Will you be serious!"

He chuckled, being way too charming for such a wise ass. "Baby, I'm kidding. I'm going to be excited for our kid, boy or girl—even if it comes out as weird looking as _Master Teddy—_but that will never happen."

I groaned this time, unable to prevent the smile from breaking across my face and completely giving me away. "I can't take you anywhere," I muttered.

Laughing again, only semi beneath his breath, he bent in over my shoulder and pressed his lips to my ear. "Can we go now—_regular stuff_. . ." he reminded me, as if I could forget.

We left a couple of minutes later, an acceptable amount of time after the cake was passed out. And after kissing and hugging Ang on the porch, Edward practically pulled me away, all but picking me up and running to the car. By the time we got home we barely made it to the bedroom. In fact, the bulk of it took place on the stairs.

My no "sex until twelve weeks" vow officially crashed and died after only two weeks and one day after putting it into action. But I was kidding myself; it was never going to last.

* * *

**A/N: if Edward came across as more annoying than he usually does, that's my husband's fault. His way of dealing with me when I've turned into Satan's Bride is to tease and mock me. Which aggravates the shit out of me. Pain in the ass male that he is.  
But, I hope you enjoyed. If you did, let me know. And remember, you trolly trolls, I do reply to assholey anon reviews—that I conveniently don't get anymore. Psssht. Where's the fun in that?  
And with one more chapter down, I'm off to see Beauty and the Beast with my bitches.  
WMAH xoxo**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I wrote three chapters in three days! The keto brain is real! . There's only a few more left in this story now. Gah these two AU characters started in 2008 when I first started writing Someone Like You! Do you believe it? :( I'm going to get a few more chapters of The Friend Zone rewritten next, so I can finally get back on track. Thank you all you (seven) guys who have stuck with me. I know it can't have been easy.**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 33**

**Bella's POV**

I made it to twelve weeks without any drama, but my morning sickness decided to hang around for several more weeks; finally subsiding half way through week fifteen. That was around about when everything suddenly started intensifying. My libido, my breasts. . .

I practically doubled in size overnight, waking up in the morning feeling like both of them had been sledgehammered. Luckily, for their preservation, it took Edward a couple of days to notice. He'd come down with a cold, and for the first couple of mornings after they'd sprouted he'd come home from work and promptly fell asleep.

I couldn't keep them hidden forever, though, and on the third day, the kitchen tap conveniently decided to malfunction, completely showering me in cold water just as Edward returned home from work; walking through the back door.

"Hey, baby," he greeted me warmly, making his way over to me, when he paused, his focus zeroing in on my soaked t-shirt plastered to my two new additions. "Jesus. . ." he uttered, his expression incredulous, before a sly smiled inched slowly across his face. "What the hell is going on here?"

I only sighed, resigned to the fact that he was completely male. "Okay, get it out of your system," I said dryly, rolling my eyes.

"Hello, Mummy," he teased me; though, it sounded more or less to himself, before cupping them both in his palms and dropping his lips to my cleavage.

"Okay, honey, they're really sensitive," I stated, cringing away from him. This was despite his obvious efforts to be gentle.

"Can I get a better look?" he arched a canny brow, inching up my shirt before I got a chance to answer.

"Oh my god." I sighed, raising my arms to accommodate him as he removed my shirt, regardless. It was wet, anyway.

"I have to remember to thank the petri dish over this one," he murmured as his lips trailed the tops of my expanded anatomy.

"Edward," I complained, fast becoming exasperated, "will you stop referring to our child as a bloody petri dish!?"

He chuckled, his heated breath washing over my chest, making them all but tingle—and not in a good way—before he raised his head to plant his lips on mine. "Can we do _other stuff _with them tonight?"

He was only joking, of course, but I was completely past the point of patience. "Seriously, Edward! I'm growing a bloody human here—you're not supposed to be getting off on it!"

Naturally, his response was to quirk a cynical brow at me. "This coming from someone who practically molested me while I was under the influence of cold medication the other day."

He'd rendered me speechless, as usual, and while I wracked my brain for a coherent response, he laughed again. Altogether too charming for his own good, before taking me into his arms and kissing me gently. "I'm sorry, baby. You know I'm only messing with you, don't you?"

"I know." I sighed good-naturedly, rolling my eyes as he pressed me to him tighter, and I knew it was only to further satisfy his curiosity over the novelty of my new breasts.

"Okay, I've got to get another look at them," he burst, his tone light and teasing, while his eyes suddenly darkened, before once more pulling me back.

I only groaned, while he all but ogled them as they practically spilled out of my, now, too small bra. "At least one of us is enjoying them," I muttered.

"Oh, hell, yes," was all he mumbled, his grin slightly drunk, before he hauled me off my feet, into his arms, carrying me toward the stairs.

My changing body _was_ making me slightly self-conscious; especially when everything seemed to be changing except my stomach, but Edward was well aware of my enhanced sex drive, and he was taking full advantage.

**. . .**

My first Dr's appointment was the week after, in Port Angeles. I loved Dr Kendrick immediately. She was in her mid-forties, was warm and funny, and had a way of explaining everything to me that put me completely at ease. Naturally, she had to take several vials of blood from me, despite the amount Dr Stewart had taken previously, before prodding and poking me, and examining every inch of my torso, from breasts to pelvic bone. She kept the atmosphere light, and chatted easily with me and Edward throughout, about her experiences with IVF—she'd also seen Dr Stewart—and her two IVF babies; a boy and a girl.

After, she produced a Fetal Doppler and almost immediately found the baby's heartbeat. It was swift and constant, and just over 140 beats per minute; which was completely normal, Dr Kendrick informed me.

"Everything looks great, Bella." She smiled at me warmly, wiping the gloop off my stomach, before swivelling in her chair back to her desk, opening her schedule on her office computer. "I want to see you again in four weeks after your anatomy scan."

Then, passing me a little slip with my next appointment written on it, she led me and Edward to the door.

"Take care," she spoke softly to me, squeezing my shoulder.

"I really like her," I admitted to Edward, grabbing the hand he extended to me, as we headed toward the "chips and sauce" café for lunch. I felt so positive, and everything was going so smoothly that it was still so hard to grasp. I kept waiting for something to go wrong; for the bubble to burst; for everything to come crashing down around us, but it didn't.

We were well and truly in unchartered waters.

"Yeah," Edward agreed simply, releasing my hand to drape his arm around my shoulders, before smiling lightly to himself, "and I prefer having another female feel you up."

I rolled my eyes; I was pretty much expecting it, after all. "Would you stop being such a male!"

He only laughed.

**. . .**

A week later, week seventeen, heralded in the next milestone. My stomach had slowly began to transition from flat to slightly rounded, while I was convinced I was beginning to feel the baby move. Of course I then tried to convince myself that I was imagining things, but it wasn't until Edward felt it as well that it suddenly became real.

We had a rare Friday off together, and were lying on the sofa watching spooky movies. Edward had one hand around my hip, while his other cupped to my waist—closer to my breasts than my abdomen, when he suddenly paused and turned to me.

"Was that . . . ?" he left it unspoken, his expression openly surprised.

I nodded, smiling broadly, before sliding his hand further down my stomach, and placing both of mine over it. "I've been feeling it for the last couple of days."

We waited, and then . . . nothing.

"This kid's a hustler," he joked dryly, just as it prodded again. And then again. Then again, more noticeably than the previous.

"Whoa!" Edward burst, stunned, hastily removing his hand as if it had burned him.

"It's definitely the baby, isn't it?" I put it to him, needing him to assure me that I wasn't imagining things.

"Either that or you have an alien in there, as well," he teased me, before leaning closer and pressing his lips lightly to my temple. "Of course it's the baby, you pain in the ass." His tone was tender this time, which quickly infected his smile.

My smile in return immediately mirrored his, before I rested my head on his shoulder. "It's still so hard to believe," I admitted, softly. Then, out of nowhere, I was hit by a deluge of emotion, and in the next moment tears had spilled over and down my cheeks before I could stop them.

"Awww, baby," Edward murmured, his smile turning affectionate, and more to himself, before he pulled me further against him; kissing me gently but repeatedly. "These pregnancy hormones are making you sappy, buttercup."

I laughed, but it was fractured and choked, before I attempted to pull myself together; hastily wiping my eyes. "I know," I conceded. "I'm a complete mess."

Using the sleeve of his shirt, he attempted to dry my tears, all but chuckling to himself beneath his breath. "What am I going to do with you, woman?"

"No more mocking me," I replied, knowingly, before with a wavering breath, I entwined my fingers with his; resting our hands against my barely-there stomach.

Of course that's exactly what he did do, imitating me by exhaling heavily, then laughing gently when I elbowed him.

"Honey . . ."

But I wasn't really angry, and after continuing to chuckle almost silently to himself, he released his breath into an almost drunken-sounding hum. "And then there was three. . ."

For the next several minutes we watched the movie in silence, as Edward ran his fingers up and over my belly, absently. He was making my stomach twitch and each time it did, the baby reacted; almost threatening to unleash more tears on me.

It was just so unfathomable; I could barely contain it.

"Are we going to find out the baby's gender at the ultra-sound?" I wondered out loud a moment later.

Edward only hummed again, this time in contemplation, before eventually replying, "I don't know—do you want to?"

"I think I'd rather have a surprise," I admitted.

"And you'd be surprised . . . if it was a puppy?" he teased me, muffling his laughter against my shoulder.

"Be serious, you doofus!"

"If we know we can get the bedroom ready," he suggested simply, raising his brows when I turned my head to meet his gaze.

I thought about it for a fraction of a second, before shaking my head. "If I'm going to go through horrendous pain, I want to have a surprise at the end of it."

Edward appeared to pause, and when I turned to gauge him again, his expression was . . . aghast. "You're not going to get an epidural?" His voice almost failed.

"Edward," I broke into a dubious smile, "do you _actually _think I will agree to have a giant needle inserted into my spine?"

Again he hesitated, before softly clearing his throat. "Honey, do you remember that video we watched as kids?"

I nodded, my brow etching as my thoughts lingered on it. It was pretty disturbing if I remembered correctly. This was despite the fact that Edward had just called me '_honey'_. Honey equalled anxiety for him.

"I'll be _okay_," I assured him sincerely, placing my palm against his cheek. "It's _one_ day in my life."

He shook his head. He wasn't even remotely reassured, before he dragged his rigid fingers back through his hair. "Baby," he pressed me, a little too seriously. "I've seen it first-hand, remember? I know how loud you're going to scream. I-I can't watch you go through that."

His expression was becoming raw and completely overrun; he was really bothered by it.

Edward didn't often bring his work home with him, but I knew on several occasions it had caused him a lot more stress and anxiety than he'd ever led me to believe.

"You know me, honey. I have a high tolerance for pain." I attempted a second time to assure him, but I was suddenly failing to convince myself.

Bowing his head, he pressed his fingers into his heavily ridged brow. "Jesus, Bella," he uttered, his voice strained.

I had no idea he was so opposed to me having a natural birth, and now I was suddenly faced with the choice of one of my greatest phobias, or traumatising my husband in the delivery room.

But in reality there was no choice. I would always put Edward's feelings ahead of my own, and when it all came down to it, I_ needed _him to be right there beside me, and that was never going to happen if he was twisting himself inside out at seeing me in pain.

I only watched him for a moment, before I again cupped my hand to his cheek, coaxing him to meet my gaze. "This is really upsetting you, isn't it?" I said gently; though, it wasn't a question.

His eyes only met mine fleetingly before he moved my hand and broke my gaze. "Bella, come on, of course it is," he mumbled, and he was a lot more rattled than I'd ever expected.

Taking a momentous breath, I released it into a conceding groan. "Okay, you big sook," I began, attempting to tease him, but the protectiveness that was suddenly flooding me had turned my tone too sedate. "I'll make you a deal. I'll have an epidural if we don't find out the baby's gender."

Breaking into an immediate grin, the tension in his shoulders already reversing, he released his breath in obvious relief. "Deal—jesus, baby. . . " he began, a little too passionately, before he abandoned it, dragging my face to his and kissing me with way too much intensity.

"Okay," I sighed in resignation, after all but forcing him back to meet his eyes, "but you'll have to pull out _the mother_ of all distractions," I made him promise me.

He grinned, and too much of his charm again infiltrated it. "You know I will."

I sighed again, dropping my forehead into my palm, trying not to think too much about it. I had six months to get accustomed to it, after all, but if I was being honest, the thought of an epidural scared the hell out of me.

Edward was quiet, and when I again met his eyes, his smile only broadened, almost sheepishly, and I was tempted to roll my eyes at him, but stopped myself. This was evidently significant for him, and I had to remember that he was_ inherently_, incredibly sensitive, but really, I wouldn't have him any other way.

"Want to do _other stuff_?" I murmured playfully in his ear, suddenly filled with guilt. Guilt because I had no idea he'd ever felt this way.

**. . .**

Two weeks later was my nineteenth week anatomy scan, where Edward and I quickly discovered just how much our jelly bean had grown. She was now a little person with fingers and toes, and a profile almost identical to Edward's. It was actually quite astonishing just how much our baby looked like him already—even from the black and white imagery on the screen.

After the sonographer took all the measurements, and checked the development of all his organs, she then switched the screen to 3D. It was truly amazing. We could see all the features of his face. He yawned, several times and sucked her thumb.

It was so incredible, that I quickly became overwhelmed, and then, of course, a blubbering mess. I couldn't help it; this was the first moment that it became real for me. That I was _actually_ having a baby.

Smiling at me warmly the sonographer handed me several tissues, and as I attempted pitifully to straighten myself out Edward suddenly uttered a shocked kind of sound.

I turned to him; his entire expression was smoothed out in surprise.

"Honey, what?" I asked, becoming anxious.

"N-nothing," he stammered, shaking his head, and quickly throwing me a placating smile.

Unconvinced, I turned to glance at the sonographer, she had a small smile on her face, while looking completely tight-lipped. "Everything's fine, hun. Baby is completely healthy."

I felt my brow ridge in confusion, before I again turned back to Edward, only he was making every effort to avoid my gaze. "Honey?" I demanded, before he reluctantly turned to me. "What did you see—the baby's gender?"

He broke into a completely guilt-ridden smile, opening his mouth to reply when the sonographer jumped in.

"It was my fault, hun. The baby's jumping all over the place, and I didn't move away from . . . _that area_ fast enough."

I only gazed at Edward for several moments, unsure how I felt, when the sonographer again broke the silence. "Are you sure you don't want to know?"

Immediately, I shook my head, just as Edward answered softly on my behalf, "No, she doesn't want to."

I remained too distracted for the rest of the ultra-sound, despite how detailed the pictures on the screen were; despite the uncanny resemblance between her and Edward. My thoughts were monopolised by Edward knowing, and how I _felt _about him knowing. He was giving away no clues, either; he remained just as fascinated by it all, while the small smile pulling at his lips was the only giveaway.

After, we were given at least two dozen photos of the baby, both in 2 and 3D, and for a brief moment, I was too preoccupied with them, before realisation again sunk in.

Edward opened the passenger side door of the car for me, that secretive smile on his lips beginning to make me impatient.

"Stop it!" I huffed.

He laughed, pulling himself into the driver's side. "What?" he asked, turning to me with completely feigned innocence.

"Do _not _tell me," I warned him, more seriously than I expected. "I mean it, because if I find out I'm vetoing the epidural."

It went without saying that I'd never actually do that, but I had to put the fear of god into him somehow.

He turned to me, appearing to weigh up the seriousness of my threat for a moment, before he shook his head lightly to himself. "Would you stop being a pain in the ass, woman! I'm not going to tell you."

Of course, we were barely half way home when the curiosity got the better of me. I turned to him, scrutinising him for a moment; he wasn't going to crack, I quickly realised.

"So. . ." I breached tactfully, grabbing his attention, "were you surprised?"

He broke into a broad all-knowing grin, before it turned completely inward. "No," he answered simply, being deliberately vague.

I only sighed, letting it go for several more miles down the Olympic Highway, before all too soon the curiosity began to burn away at me, again.

"Are you . . . _happy_?" I prompted him next, to which he chuckled, completely at my expense.

"Why wouldn't I be happy?" And apart from mocking me, he also seemed genuinely confused.

"I don't know," I began, becoming frustrated. "You never mentioned . . . a preference. . ."

"That's because I didn't have one, you _doofus_," he teased me, using the term I often called him, for added measure.

I only scowled at him, before conceding defeat and returning to the pictures. She was so much like Edward that I wondered if she'd have any of my genes at all.

"Look at this profile," I murmured in awe, holding it out for Edward to better see after he'd peered over my shoulder, while we were stopped at an intersection. "He is completely _you_."

"_He_?" he questioned, quirking a questioning brow at me.

I rolled my eyes. "I've decided I'm not going to refer to the baby as 'it' anymore, so I'm going to alternate."

He grinned to himself again, and on top of laughing at me in general, I was beginning to suspect he was also gloating.

"Okay, that's it, just bloody tell me!" I eventually snapped, to which of course, he only laughed.

"Not a chance in hell, buttercup."

**. . .**

Three days later Ang had her baby boy. Her labour had been rough this time; the baby was tangled in the umbilical cord and Ang ended up having an emergency c-section. After he was born, she only got a glimpse of him before he was taken immediately to the NICU. She didn't get to see him again until the next morning. She was traumatised by it, Ben told me over the phone, sounding just as grieved by it himself.

"She cried the entire night, Bella, but her blood pressure was so high they didn't want to move her," he explained, his voice coming very close to breaking.

"Oh, poor thing," I whispered, my heart breaking for her, before my hand almost subconsciously came to rest over my growing jelly bean.

With Lilly she'd told me it had been very clinical. She'd been given an epidural and was flat on her back in stirrups. This time she'd wanted a water birth in the adjoining birth centre.

"Everything's good now; he's really healthy. We were really lucky." Ben's voice softened as if he was lost in thought.

"I'm so glad, Ben. Give Ang my love. When should we come and see her?"

"Hmmm, she's pretty sore at the moment, but she really wants to see you. Tomorrow should be fine."

After making repeated heartfelt congratulations, then wishing Ben goodbye, I ended the call and turned to Edward; my heart suddenly hammering behind my ribs.

It was the first time I really became spooked over the actual delivery. I'd never even considered the idea of having a c-section, and suddenly the thought of an epidural didn't seem so bad.

"Poor Ang," I mumbled suddenly lost in thought, as I slumped up against Edward.

He encircled me in his arms, his lips coming to rest on top of my head. "This is why I want to make sure you get through it with as little pain and trauma as possible, baby," he admitted, but his voice was deep and reflective.

**. . .**

I wasn't sure what I expected to see the next day, but it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. Ang was sitting up in bed looking tired more than anything, before a broad smile lit up across her face the moment we walked in her room.

I hugged her impulsively, while being as gentle as I could. "Congratulations, Angie," I said, sincerely, before pulling back. "I'm so sorry it went so bad."

"Yeah, I know," she acknowledged, half shrugging a shoulder as if in resignation, "but I'm just glad he's okay."

I nodded, before glancing around the room. There was a crib beside her bed, but no baby. "Where is he? Is he still in the NICU?"

She shook her head. "No, they took him for his hearing test. He should be back any moment now. You should see how big he is."

"How big?"

"Nine and a half pounds!" Ang answered, sounding just as surprised as I'm sure I looked.

"Oh my god, are you sure he would have fit?" I speculated. Ang was so slim, after all.

She chuckled, before immediately trying to smother it, holding her stomach and grimacing. "B, please don't make me laugh."

Right on cue a nurse appeared holding a wrapped bundle that she then placed inside the empty crib. "He did well," she reassured Ben and Ang, with a promising smile, before washing her hands on the walled soap dispenser and again leaving.

I peered down at him, an immediate smile breaking across my face. He was all cheeks, and had a fine covering of golden brown hair.

"He looks like you, Ben," I concluded.

"Holy hell, he's a line backer," was Edward's observation.

Ben only chuckled, before delicately picking him up and into his arms. "Would you like to hold him, Bella?" he offered

"Sure," I agreed, willingly, as Edward took my purse from my shoulder.

There was no mistaking what a big boy he was. He was heavy, and as I held him securely to me, his chubby little arms stretched out before him as he yawned.

"He's a chunk, isn't he?" Ben laughed softly, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were shining with unmistakable pride.

"He definitely is," I replied warmly, gazing back at him, before running my nose gently against his cheek. His skin was so incredibly soft and he smelled _so good._

"He's beautiful, Ang," I whispered, hastily inhaling back the imminent threat of tears. I was a lost cause these days.

Beside me, Edward gently squeezed my side, before reaching out and taking the baby's little hand with his forefinger, chuckling softly beneath his breath. "What did you guys name him?" he put the question to Ang.

With this little bundle in my arms I had completely forgotten to ask.

"Joshua Benjamin," Ang answered smiling. "Have you guys thought about names yet?"

Glancing at Edward briefly, I turned back to Ang, shaking my head in answer. "Not really—I mean, nothing is definite yet."

"You'd better get started. Your due date will be here in no time."

I'm sure Ang was just humouring me, because for me it felt like each passing month was a year. And no matter how further along I got, November still seemed like a long way away.

Everything continued to go as smooth as possible. Textbook smooth. The baby's growth was right on par; my blood pressure was normal, my weight gain—normal. The baby moved a lot, all the time, keeping me awake at night, and giving me indigestion, while bit by painful bit my belly started growing, until I _finally_ looked like I was pregnant, and not just bloated.

My breasts continued to grow, _and grow_, much to Edward's delight, until I had no choice but to buy maternity bras. But by that point, I was only interested in comfort. But despite my rapidly changing body, and Edward's obvious appreciation for it, he started to hold himself back. And it didn't help that my libido was still ridiculously heightened. I noticed it around the six month mark; he began reacting too cautiously with me. He stopped groping me. Okay, he groped me_ less,_ and no longer did he throw me over the kitchen table, or against the tiled wall of the shower, until I started missing that impulsive abandonment about him. Not to mention the feel of his torridly heated body over mine.

On the other hand, it only made me love him that little bit more.

When we did have sex, which was a lot less from only a few months ago, he wouldn't press his body against mine; instead he'd pull himself up on his knees, making every effort to make sure he didn't come into contact with my belly. He was being over-protective of me, that was always a given, but I'd noticed he was becoming a lot more protective of the baby. It was the little things he did, like making sure I wasn't standing too close to the kitchen counter, so my belly wouldn't bump up against it when I was cooking.

Of course, he still mocked and teased me as much as he ever did; though, I wouldn't know what to think if he ever stopped.

He didn't budge on the baby's gender either. He painted the baby's room yellow with a border of bunnies. No trains or pink ballet dancing bears. When we went shopping for baby clothes he always picked out something white, or grey. In fact, he appeared to like grey, but grey and yellow, or grey and white; never grey and blue, or grey and pink. The baby furniture was white, and all the pieces of baby essentials from the high chair to the pram were grey or yellow. The only thing that was blue was the car seat, but navy seemed to be the default colour for all of them.

I had to hand it to him; he'd remained immovable.

**. . .**

When I was seven months pregnant, Ang organised a baby shower for me. Just the girls this time, since apparently it wasn't only Edward who'd been bored senseless at her and Ben's gender reveal. All the girls from Forks were invited, not to mention Rose, and then, a week before, I received a package in the mail. There was no return address and my thoughts immediately returned to the day we'd received Esme's wedding gift. Not to mention what it had quickly escalated into.

I did not want Edward losing it right now, despite his promise to forgive Alice and his mother—despite the fact that he was starting to crack, even minimally, where Alice was concerned—so I hid the package in the basement.

Of course he found it not two days later, carrying it up the stairs curiously.

"What's this, baby?" he asked casually, plodding it down on the kitchen table, not suspecting anything out of the ordinary.

Releasing my breath, I dropped my forehead to my palm. "I'm not sure," I mumbled, "but I have a feeling it's from either Alice or your mother."

"Are . . . you going to open it?" he suggested, as if it went without saying. "It might not be.

Okay, he had a point, but my intuition wasn't buying it.

Huffing my breath impatiently, I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer, when Edward intercepted me, taking them from my hand before ripping open the box. Inside was a smaller package wrapped in pink and blue paper. On top was a card, which Edward, without a single reservation, ripped off and opened.

"Dear Edward and Bella," he began reading out loud, the tone of his voice deliberately mocking, "congratulations on your soon to be new addition, all our love Alice, Jazz, Teddy and Esme."

"Wow, didn't see that coming," I muttered sarcastically, once more placing my palm to my brow, frustrated.

Edward only gauged me for a moment, a small crick knotting his forehead, before he shrugged. "I don't know. . ." he said softly with a sigh, more or less to himself, before placing his hands on his hips, and I didn't understand his meaning.

"What, honey . . . ?" I questioned him, only I wasn't sure how to express what I was feeling, so I let it go.

He expelled his breath, and this time an ironic, if not slightly exasperated, smile tugged on his lips. "Jesus, she's such a fucking pain in the ass."

"Are you . . . angry?" I put it to him, apprehensively.

He shrugged, it was resigned and weary, before he pushed his palm back through his hair. "Not really. I mean, I just can't keep it going anymore. It's always going to piss me off, but you and the baby . . ." he didn't finish; he didn't have to.

"I know," I murmured, before curling myself against him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, completely letting go of my breath.

For a brief moment he held me to him tightly, before doing what he often did, he dropped his lips to my head. "I'm going to be late, baby," he reminded me, his voice muffled against my hair, before his tone turned light, "and petri dish is kicking me."

It was 6am; Edward was on day shift for the first time in months. I just wasn't ready for him to leave.

"Can't you have a sickie," I urged him, grabbing his shirt in both my fists.

Pushing his obvious amusement quickly through his nose, he cupped my face to his and planted his lips tenderly to mine. "No, I can't have a _sickie_—as much as I want to. Not when I'm taking a month off after the nugget is born."

I felt like crying, but at the same time I was becoming frustrated. "What do you want me to do with this?" I asked, referring to the still unopened gift sitting inside the box.

He sighed, shortly, and more patiently than I was expecting—in light of the topic. "Open it, and let me know later what it is."

He went to take a step away from me, when I grabbed his hand, preventing him. "Are you sure you're my husband?" I teased him gently, though I was genuinely surprised.

Maybe he really had let it all go. . .

He scoffed, almost rolling his eyes. "I told you, Bella, petri dish first, then we'll deal with asshole relatives. Baby, I have to go. Talk to Ang about it, okay?"

And after kissing me quickly on the lips, his hand covering my belly briefly, he grabbed his lunch and headed out the front door.

I only stared after him, shaking my head to myself in wonder.

It was a blanket; a white crocheted blanket with yellow embroidered ducks in each corner—clearly handmade. It was really beautiful, and despite the last two and a half years of resenting Alice for lying to me and keeping me and Edward apart, I was really touched.

A couple of days later, I sent Alice a 'thank you' card, telling her how much we loved it. Then, several days later, I got one back, asking if it would be okay if her and Jazz came to the hospital to visit after the baby was born.

I only stared at it for several minutes in complete disbelief, before it quickly turned to impatience. I tore it up and threw it in the bin.

Edward didn't find out about that one.

By the time I turned twenty-eight, a week later, I was thirty-two weeks pregnant. This was around about the time I started to experience "Braxton Hicks" contractions. They were, at times, uncomfortable, but bearable. They didn't escape the attention of Edward, though, and his focus on me began to skewer into a quiet concern. He started calling me every hour, on the hour, to see if I was okay—even if he was en route in the ambulance—and when he was at home, he kept me off my feet as much as he could, refusing to allow me to carry anything heavier than a cup of coffee.

As sweet as he was he was beginning to become almost suffocating, but he didn't even begin to let up until a month later; when I went on maternity leave from the restaurant.

At week thirty-six, Dr Kendrick sent me off for another ultra-sound to check my amniotic level. She was concerned by the amount I had, because the baby appeared to be bobbing around, and although, she was head down, she wasn't engaging in my pelvis.

He was big now—so big I was, for the first time, beginning to feel apprehensive.

How could I possibly get this little person out of my body?

He was completely curled up, snug, fast running out of room, and there was absolutely no way I could see what was between his legs. They were tightly closed together and crossed at her ankles.

His height was measured at eighteen inches and his weight was approximately five pounds. Smack bang average for weight, and slightly above average for height. Which made complete sense, courtesy of my lean, six foot two husband.

Either we had a daughter who'd grow to be taller than me, or another tall Cullen boy.

We then had to wait more than twenty minutes before she swallowed. That was Dr Kendrick's main concern; that my amniotic fluid was higher than average because the baby wasn't digesting it. But after witnessing her take several gulps, the sonographer was confident that all was well.

She then switched the imagery to 3D and I was gobsmacked. She was a completely developed baby now, with a defined little face and chubby cheeks. And so adorable. I knew I was biased, but she really was the most beautiful baby ever.

And looked exactly like Edward.

"That's one cute kid," Edward professed after, his voice tender, before curling his arm around me, and taking a lot of my weight—as if I was unable to walk on my own.

"Honey. . . I _can _walk!" I protested with a sigh, unable to express my frustration properly in the wake of seeing our baby so intimately.

I couldn't wait to hold him in my arms, but another four weeks felt like a lifetime away.

After week thirty-six, my doctor's appointments went from bi-weekly, to weekly.

At week thirty-seven, I packed my hospital bag, and Edward and I finally decided on names. Jack Charlie William for a boy, named after Edward's father, my father and Uncle Billy, and Greer Kellie, for a girl, for obvious reasons. . .

At week thirty-eight, I discussed my birth plan with Dr Kendrick. I was a "yes" for an epidural, I admitted, reluctantly—so reluctantly that she only surveyed me for a moment before jotting it down in her notes. Despite the epidural I wanted as little intervention as possible. I did not want to give birth on my back. I wanted to be as upright as possible—and no stirrups, under any circumstances. I also did not want Pitocin. I was insistent that while I was unable to conceive the baby naturally, my body would know what to do when the time came to get her out.

After writing it all down, Dr Kendrick then turned to me with an accommodating smile. "The most important thing to do, Bella, is to remain open-minded. Anything and everything can happen with babies, so don't be upset if it doesn't go completely to plan, okay?"

I only nodded, my thoughts immediately going to Ang, and I knew when it came down to it, I would agree to anything to make sure the baby was born healthy.

"My job is to make sure no harm comes to both of you, and that's my main priority, but we can get you upright when it comes time to push." Her expression suddenly lightened in amusement, before she turned to Edward. "So long as your husband is strong enough to hold you up."

When Edward's brows immediately shot up in somewhat cynical confusion, she elaborated, speaking directly to him, "When Bella goes into transition, she is going to be hit with a huge burst of energy and strength. I've seen women shove their husbands clear across the room."

Edward laughed shortly to himself, clearly not buying it, and short of labour turning me into The Hulk, I doubted it, as well. Still, that knot of concern remained etched in his forehead, while the apprehension grew steadily within me.

What the hell was I about to put myself through?

Week thirty-nine I was well and truly over it. I was sure my belly had doubled in size in only a couple of weeks, and I was constantly tired and uncomfortable. I was done being pregnant, and I wanted my body back.

Week forty was a complete anti-climax and non-event. My due date came and went without so much as a whisper, and every day after felt like a week, until it felt like a month. . .

Dr Kendrick suggested sex in an effort to kick-start labour, but despite how I'd felt only a few months previously, I only stared at her in complete antipathy. My sex drive had long been extinguished by that point.

Week forty-one I was begging Edward for sex, but I was so big, and with Edward making every effort to avoid making too much contact with my humongous belly, we weren't in harmony. Naturally, it was another non-event, and something that pushed me over the edge.

Bursting into tears, I shoved him off me, before yanking my robe around me, frustrated and disheartened. The robe didn't cover my stomach by half, so my belly stuck out like the dorsal fin of a shark breaking the surface of the ocean.

"I'm sorry, baby," Edward said softly, with sincere remorse, before pushing aside the robe from my shoulder to press his lips to my skin.

I only continued to sob. "I'm going to be pregnant forever."

I knew this was no more than a neurotic cliché, but at that moment I honestly believed it.

Edward only chuckled softly, inwardly, lest he evoke the wrath of his heavily pregnant wife, before coming beside me and planting his lips to my temple gently. "Whatever happens, baby, you definitely know petri dish going to born on or before Wednesday."

Wednesday, six days from now, I was booked in for an induction. I did _not_ want to be induced—and I refused to entertain the thought of being pregnant for another six days—so needless to say Edward's words brought me no comfort. In fact, all it did was threaten to piss me off more.

I only shook my head, wiping my tears away clumsily, as more and more fell.

Undeterred, Edward leaned closer to me, until his lips grazed lightly against my cheek. "Want me to give the _little bugger_ an eviction notice?" he teased me.

"Seriously, Edward!" I snapped, seeing absolutely no humour in it at all. "Even now you're mocking me? I'm about to bring forth a whale from my vag, and that's what you're going with?!"

Of course, he only quirked that completely aggravating, albeit affectionate, brow in my direction, trying his damnedest not to break into a grin. "_Vag_?"

"Oh my god. . ." I murmured, dropping my head into my palm. It was me who smiled, though, in total submission, but for the first time grateful that my doofus, lovable husband was able to distract me.

**. . .**

Week forty-one and two days, my water broke.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is from Edward's POV and he knows the gender, so you will know before it's born. He calls the baby 'petri dish' for Bella's benefit, but he won't for his own. This chapter is already written, so after 33 chapters I will not make you wait (that long) ;)  
So boy or girl? What do you think? I did leave a few small clues throughout the last few previous chapters. Did you spot them?  
MWAH love yas. **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: and baby makes three. . . **

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 34**

**Edward's POV**

I was in the dead of sleep when I was woken up by the fleabag, nudging his nose into my face and using his "speaking voice" as Bella called it—when he made that weird ass half growl, half whine sound.

I only shoved him away, rolling on my side, when the little shit actually grabbed the back of my shirt in his mouth, and pulled me, fucking growl-whining louder.

I was fucking exhausted. The last couple of nights I'd barely slept a wink; Bella had kept me up tossing and turning for the most part. It's not like I could blame her. The poor thing was miserable; she could never get comfortable, and the baby often gave her heart burn.

I couldn't believe how big she was now, and the last couple of weeks I was really starting to fucking panic. She was so small; there was no possible way that kid could get out of her; there couldn't be. Hell she couldn't even take _me_ when we'd first had sex, so how the fuck was she going to manage my kid?

This was despite the doc reassuring us—or more reassuring _me_—dozens of times that she only expected the baby to be around seven pounds; Bella just had a higher amount of amniotic fluid than average.

Jesus, it had been a long nine months, but here we were at the end of it, with still no baby. I wasn't sure how long Bella could hold on, but for me, I'd be happy for it to drag out a lot longer. Bella would fucking rip my balls off if she ever heard me state that, but when this baby was born I had a job to do, and I had to get it right.

I had to make sure my son didn't turn into the same shit of a kid that I was, and if he was anything like me, I had to stay on top of the next eighteen years. When I think back now on how I used to speak to my mother, I fucking cringe. If my father was alive he would have ripped my limbs off—exactly what I'll do if I ever catch this kid speaking to Bella the same way.

If I was being honest, I was kind of hoping the baby would be a girl. A nice quiet, sweet-natured girl like Bella, but it was probably fucking karma that I'd end up with a kid just like me. At the same time, I was pretty pumped. I instantly thought of Little League and playing catch with him in the backyard. Not to mention seeing how much he'd love his mother.

He was my son, after all. . .

I didn't plan on finding out we were having a "he", but I couldn't really avoid it. The kid suddenly turned front on and opened his legs, and there was no denying what he was. The first thing I thought was that Bella was going to be disappointed. It was stupid, I know, but with everything that had happened with her—after seeing those little girls when she'd gone to—where ever the fuck it had been . . . I thought deep down she wanted a girl. I really did. Now, after going through the last nine months with her, the sonograms and all her doctor's appointments, I realized just how much she loved this kid, boy or girl.

It was Bella who'd decided on the name Jack. It had been a toss-up between Charlie and Jack, but the pain in the ass always put me before her, so it really didn't surprise me when she'd opted for my father's name first. If I ever forgot how much I loved her—as fucking ridiculous as that was—our kid's name would quickly remind me again.

"Get out of here, you little shit," I mumbled to the furball, half asleep and irritated, before curling my arm around Bella—when I realized she wasn't there.

I sat up in bed, fucking disoriented for moment, when the hairy bastard growled at me—for real this time. I turned back to him, ready to throw the bedside lamp at the little asshole, when he immediately turned and headed out of the room, before giving me this fucking look as if to say "well, what are you waiting for"?

I wasn't far behind him, stumbling downstairs, but I wasn't too concerned. Bella often got up during the night, multiple times, to use the bathroom, get a glass of water, or make herself fucking spaghettios on toast.

I found her pacing back and forth in the living room, with her hand under her belly, as if it was all that was holding it up.

"Baby . . . ?" I asked her apprehensively, my voice still croaky. "You okay?"

She looked up at me then, and her eyes immediately stonewalled me. They were wide and full of alarm. In fact, she looked fucking terrified.

"Honey—what's wrong?" I burst, almost falling down the last couple of steps, my heart coming to a fucking pit stop. "Are you in labor?"

She stopped pacing and turned to fully face me, just as I pulled her into my arms. "My water broke," she confessed, her voice wavering. She was shaking.

"Okay, stay calm," I replied, when that was the last fucking thing I was suddenly feeling, before I led her over to the sofa, but she refused to sit.

"I'm still leaking," she explained in a mumble, clinging to me.

I looked down at her. She was wearing my flannel pajama pants—that were five times too big—like she usually did, but with the only light coming from the kitchen I couldn't tell if they were wet or not.

Reaching over, I switched on the living room lights, before taking her hand. Jesus, she was still fucking shaking.

"Baby, why didn't you wake me up?" I asked her hesitantly.

"Because, I haven't had any contractions yet," she answered. "I just feel crampy." She continued to hold up her belly, looking suddenly distracted—more distracted than she already was.

"D-do you want some Tylenol?" I stammered, before realizing how fucking stupid that question was the minute it had left my mouth.

I guess it wasn't that stupid, at all, because a small smile immediately pulled at her lips, before she directed it at me, the same way she always did. "I already took some. Dr. Kendrick suggested it while I wait for the contractions to start."

"You called her already?" It wasn't really a question.

She only nodded, before pulling on her lower lip. Her eyes becoming fucking endless.

"Honey, you look freaked out. Come and sit down." I coaxed her over to the sofa again, sitting her down and not giving a shit if she leaked amniotic fluid all over it.

"I _am _freaked out, Edward," she suddenly declared, turning her scared-to-fucking-death eyes on me. "I'm not sure I want to do this anymore."

I knew I shouldn't laugh, and it was fucking hard not to, but before I could even attempt to smother it, she burst into tears.

Okay, she was emotional. The doc told me she'd become more and more emotional. It was normal, but it still threatened to fucking shred me.

Pulling her into my arms, I wrapped my hand around her belly—the way she liked—holding both of them against me. "It's going to be okay, baby. I'm going to be with you," I attempted to reassure her.

"I-I'm just not sure I can do this," she confessed, and when she looked up at me her eyes were pleading with me.

"Of course you can," I promised her, keeping my tone as encouraging and as fucking positive as I could, because I was really finding it hard to imagine that she could, as well.

She only nodded, burying her face into my chest and taking a shaky breath.

"Just stay with me for a while, honey. I'll be okay in a minute," she mumbled against the material of my shirt a moment later.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her, my voice soft, before pulling her closer to me; the kid started kicking me in the stomach.

True to her word, a minute or so later, Bella pulled herself back, and dried her eyes, flashing me this smile that was full of fucking doubt.

"Want me to make you a cup of tea, or something?" I asked, tucking her hair behind her ear and out of her face.

Taking an inevitable sounding breath, she hummed in answer, and after getting to my feet, the furball took my seat on the sofa next to her.

I had to remember to buy the little shit a bone.

I made two cups of tea, despite not really liking the stuff, as well as two slices of toast for Bella. I figured she'd need the energy. Then after, there was nothing to do but wait. I attempted several times to distract her and make her laugh, but she was too lost in her own thoughts. If truth be told, I felt just as fucking anxious as she was beginning to look, but while Bella had every reason to be freaked out, I didn't, and I had to get on top of it—and fast.

Her contractions started about thirty minutes later. During the first one she paused mid-sentence, straightening out in surprise, before she grabbed my hand, placing it over her belly. It was rock hard and stayed that way for about thirty seconds before it went soft again.

For the next hour she got a whole bunch like this; they were erratic and all over the place before they finally began to set in and become regular. They started out at ten minutes apart, and were only around forty seconds long. They didn't bother Bella too much. In fact, the only way I knew she was having one was when her forehead bunched slightly. Then they got longer and closer together, and Bella could no longer talk through them. She began to tense, her knotted brow beginning to show the first signs of pain.

This is when I started to get edgy. I wanted to get her to the hospital, fucking now, but Dr. Kendrick advised us not to come in until they were five minutes apart.

At seven minutes, when the grip Bella had on my hand threatened to cut off my circulation, I was done waiting. We had a fucking hour drive ahead of us, after all.

"Okay, fuck this, we're going," I concluded, seriously, before jumping up to retrieve my keys from the kitchen.

Two minutes later, after helping Bella into the car, we were on our way. It was 4am, and although the roads were wet, they were practically deserted.

How you going, baby?" I asked her when we reached Port Angeles—probably faster than we should have.

"I'm okay," she spoke, sounding distracted; this was despite the fact that she was obviously trying to reassure me. I knew when she'd been having contractions, she went rigid, her head bending forward, but so far she wasn't complaining. But then the pain in the ass didn't often complain about anything.

I only flashed her a too fucking overrun smile, but I couldn't help it. Shit was about to get real.

Dr. Kendrick arrived at the Olympic Medical Center just before we did, and was waiting for us after Bella was admitted and shown to her room. She greeted us cheerfully, hugging Bella warmly, before she got down to business.

I helped Bella out of her clothes and into a gown, realizing just how much water she'd been losing. It gushed over the floor, and my shoes, the moment I ripped her legging-things off her.

She sort of half laughed, really smiling for the first time that morning. "Sorry, honey."

"We'll blame petri dish for that one." I winked at her, naturally making her smile turn cynical.

Even now.

After getting her in bed, Dr. Kendrick hooked Bella up to a fetal heart monitor, before studying it through her next contraction.

"Baby seems to be handling the contractions well," she disclosed, appearing satisfied, before preparing to insert an IV into Bella's hand; assuring Bella it didn't mean she was going to give her Pitocin. It was "just in case" something arose.

I'm not sure Bella was convinced, but as it was, she'd turned into her usual neurotic self over anything needle related, and was too spooked by it to question further.

With the IV safety inserted, and while Bella was still coming down from it, she was then examined to see how far, if at all, she was dilated.

"Four centimeters," Dr. Kendrick announced with a broad smile, before pulling the gloves off her hand. "Looks like you're staying with us, Bella."

Sighing, in evident relief, Bella turned to me, resting her arm behind her head. "Oh my god, it's really happening," she said softly, in all but disbelief, while a very significant part of her was still clearly terrified.

"It definitely is," the doc replied, while all I could do was smile; trying not to give away how fucking uptight I was. "Okay, Bella, I'm going to keep an eye on you for about an hour, and get you to five, and then we can talk about the epidural. You happy with that?"

Of course, at the mere mention of an epidural, Bella went five shades paler, causing the doctor to pause.

"Are you having second thoughts about it, now?" Dr. Kendrick put to her hesitantly.

Bella only shook her head, confessing, "No, I'd just prefer if it didn't involve an enormous needle."

The doc only smiled warmly, and with a degree of amusement that would have cost me my balls had it come from me. "I promise you, Bella, you will barely feel it."

Dr. Kendrick left, leaving just the two of us—aside from the odd midwife who came in to check her IV and blood pressure.

"Just you and me, now, buttercup," I teased her warmly, bringing the back of her hand to my lips.

She only smiled back at me, in that way of hers, while still looking way too vulnerable, before tugging me closer. "Come sit next to me."

Turning on the wall-mounted TV, I climbed on the bed beside her, pulling her against my side. She was quiet, contemplative, for the majority of the time, content to clutch my hand and play absently with my fingers. Her contractions remained constant at five minutes apart and for the most part she was handling them—breathing through them evenly when they hit—but all too soon they started to increase in intensity.

An hour came and went and then another one with no sign of the doc, and by this point Bella was losing the fight to stay on top of the pain, and was crumbling. And I was beginning to feel fucking helpless.

"Edward!" she burst, her voice straining through one contraction that didn't appear to be fucking easing. "Get me this epidural—NOW!"

I immediately hit the button to call the nurses, and a moment later one walked through the door, fucking casually.

"Where is Dr. Kendrick!?" I demanded, sounding more fucking desperate than I did angry, before she got a chance to open her mouth.

"I haven't seen her in a while. Hang on a moment and I'll find out where she is," the midwife said, turning around and leaving the room. She returned again a couple of minutes later, explaining, "She's in theatre with another patient right now, but she shouldn't be too long."

I only shook my head for a moment before stating the fucking obvious, "My wife's in a lot of pain."

And right on cue Bella was hit by a contraction so powerful it sucked the air from her lungs, before she began to all but cry out in pain. The nurse rushed over to her, easing her through it, while I just stood there, unable to help; unable to do fucking anything.

I quickly realized, despite how abrupt I'd been with her, this nurse—Lauren as she'd introduced herself as—was really lovely. She spoke to Bella kindly and respectfully, and when she told Bella she needed to do another internal, she asked her permission first.

Bella was six centimeters, and thankfully Lauren wasted no time in calling the anesthesiologist.

"Edward," Bella whimpered after, with tears rolling down her cheeks, looking beyond fucking fearful, "what the hell was I thinking?"

And despite everything, and the amount of pain she was in, I realized she was half joking.

I broke into a completely fucked up sounding laugh, that didn't sound like one at all, before bending down to press my lips to her forehead. "It won't be too long now, baby," I reassured her.

Still, I had to get her through six more contractions before the anesthesiologist arrived, and each one was more fucking gut-wrenching than the one before. She was beginning to lose it, struggling to keep her breathing even, and was almost ripping my arm out of the socket, when a middle-aged doctor walked in the room, followed by Lauren, pushing a metal trolley full of—I didn't really want to know.

Everything they did seemed in slow motion, and several times I almost told them to hurry the fuck up, when they finally got Bella into position. The doctor had her sitting up on the side of the bed; my job was to keep her still—which wasn't fucking easy when her body was being continuously fucking savaged by pain. I had to keep her focused on me, but she was struggling. Her contractions seemed to be suddenly overlapping, causing her to physically react. The doctor was forced to pause, just as he was about to insert the needle, several times, and I knew I had to get hard on her.

"Bella—dammit—look at me!" I snapped, surprising her so much she lifted her head to meet my gaze. "You have to focus on me, baby."

She nodded, gripping my shirt so tight she was almost ripping it from my back as she continued to fight her own body.

"They're not stopping," she just barely managed to utter, gasping, before resting her forehead on my shoulder. Her entire body was trembling, and this was despite her managing to remain still while the doctor inserted the epidural.

"I know, honey," I murmured, feeling my forehead crease in the fucking agony that watching her go through this was causing me. "He's almost finished."

"You'll feel so much better in a moment, sweetheart," Lauren promised her, just as the doctor announced he was done.

Thank fucking god. I was about to drop to my fucking knees!

"Oh my god—thank you." Bella sighed, exhausted, but in obvious relief, a moment later, after I helped Lauren get her back in bed. "I can feel it working already."

The anesthesiologist only smiled at her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I love you," Bella suddenly declared to him, her voice hoarse but sounding a little manic. "Will you marry me?"

He chuckled openly.

"I would, my dear, but your husband looks like the jealous type," he teased her, before turning to me. "It's not the first marriage proposal I've received."

Fuck, _I_ wanted to marry him!

While Lauren checked over the baby's heart monitor, announcing that he was still doing well, I fed Bella ice chips, and got her comfortable again. Her face was almost burning, and she looked hammered, but the pain appeared to be completely gone.

"I love you, honey," she mumbled, sounding slightly drunk, before reaching her hand out to me.

Grabbing it, I think I smiled, feeling so fucking affected I was ready to crack. "Love you too, baby."

Sitting in the chair next to her bed, and taking an enormous fucking breath, I leaned over and planted my lips against her brow. "And you wanted to do this all naturally," I teased her, softly.

She half laughed, her eyes dipping closed sleepily. "I'm clearly insane, or really . . . masochistic. . ."

She was asleep not two seconds later.

Right at that moment Dr. Kendrick entered the room; she wasn't rushing, but there was a sense of urgency in her.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I was called to an emergency," she quickly explained, before glancing over at Bella, who was out cold. "She got her epidural? Good."

After checking the baby's heart monitor print out, and seeming unfazed with it, she turned to Lauren; who filled her in on what she'd missed.

Dr. Kendrick only nodded, a stoic look on her face, her eyes glancing in Bella's direction several times, before they rested on me.

"When contractions are coming in hard and fast, sitting upright like Bella was for the epidural, with everything compacted, it can put a lot of pressure on the cervix and then cause contractions to intensify," she explained to me, without sounding too concerned, as though it was all textbook, before she once more glanced at Bella. "Poor thing, it must have been hard for her to remain still."

"It was," I answered, quietly.

"Why don't you see if you can get some sleep as well, Edward," she suggested, eyeing me almost gravely, but in understanding.

"Yeah," I mumbled, running my hand back through my hair and turning to glance at the really uncomfortable looking vinyl seating that sat below the window.

"I'll get you a pillow and blanket, hun," Lauren piped up, pulling them out of a storage closet that was adjacent to the bathroom.

Then turning the lights off, Lauren and the doc left, leaving me and Bella alone. I crashed a few minutes later, to the drumming of the baby's heart beat echoing around the room.

He was doing okay, me on the other hand. . .

**. . .**

I'm not sure how long I was asleep for, it must have been a couple of hours at least, when I woke to the sound of Bella throwing up.

I was on my feet instantly. Lauren was supporting her, while holding a bucket-thing in front of her. And on top of puking, Bella was shaking uncontrollably, as if she was freezing cold.

"The epidural can make you shaky, and drop your blood pressure. She'll feel a lot better in a moment," Lauren explained.

Yeah, I'd heard that before. . .

Sitting in the chair beside her bed again, I reached out and wiped her hair back off her forehead. She was pale, and looked fucking traumatized. "You okay, baby?"

It was a fucking lame thing to ask, but I had no other words.

She nodded, hastily, the tears that had been welling in her eyes, slipping down her face. "I'm _never _doing this again," she uttered, her voice hopelessly croaky, but she meant it.

I only smiled, the air quickly shooting through my nose, but I was in total fucking agreement with her.

"Okay, I promise to never get you knocked up again," I teased her, making her almost laugh, while Lauren clearly not getting our inside joke, chuckled along with her.

"Oh my god," Bella whispered, cupping her palm to her forehead, and sounding like she was in disbelief. "This is nuts."

"You're not feeling anything, are you?" I was almost afraid to ask.

She shook her head. "No, I mean I know when I'm having contractions, but I can't feel them—thank god."

I only nodded, relieved for the time being.

"I can feel him, though," she added a moment later.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling my brow knot.

"He's moved right down. I can feel him."

"You can, hun?" Lauren asked, approaching the bed, and when Bella nodded, she concluded, "Well we'd better see what's going on, then, okay?"

Bella hated to be flat on her back for these internals. She only clutched my hand, her other covering her face, looking uncomfortable and completely fucking invaded.

Or maybe that was just me.

It was pretty fucking disturbing watching the nurse explore around inside my wife, but before she was done, a surprised smile lit up across her face. Then turning around she hit the red button beside the bed. Another midwife walked in a few moments later, to which Lauren instructed her, "Can you call Dr. Kendrick and let her know Mrs. Cullen is ready to deliver."

Holy shit!

Bella's breath immediately drew in, before she turned to me, her eyes wide. "Honey!" she exclaimed, her voice barely audible.

"I couldn't even reach your cervix, hun. The baby's head is already halfway down the birth canal," Lauren relayed to Bella, sounding impressed, before she elaborated. "You went from six centimeters to fully dilated in under three hours."

Dr. Kendrick arrived a couple of minutes later, and began to gown-up, as Lauren dropped the bottom of the bed and set up the stirrups.

"NO STIRRUPS!" Bella immediately yelled, sharply.

The midwife paused, uncertain, when I only shook my head.

"No, she doesn't want stirrups," the doc, confirmed, before turning to Bella. "Okay, are you ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" Bella mumbled, sounding almost sarcastic, if she didn't look suddenly scared to death.

Lauren inclined the front of the bed, until it was almost vertical, before carefully removing the epidural catheter from Bella's back.

"Wait, you're taking it out!" Bella exclaimed, horrified, while my heart began to fucking hammer. "Am I going to feel this?" She turned to face Dr. Kendrick, who only smiled; her lack of concern making me feel slightly more at ease.

"Not for a couple of hours at least, Bella, and you'll have your baby out before then," she reassured her, her smile remaining constant.

I'm not sure if Bella was convinced; instead, she turned to me, grabbing my arm with both her hands. "Honey, I don't want anyone counting at me, or praising me like I'm a puppy who just learned to sit—okay?"

"Okay, I promise—it's going to be okay," I attempted to soothe her, but I wasn't sure whether it was for her benefit or mine.

The doc, on the other hand, only chuckled lightly to herself.

I sat Bella completely upright, holding her steady, while Dr. Kendrick, placed Bella's feet on the bed's footrests. "Okay, Bella let's do this."

Bella nodded, still looking freaked out beyond the point of rational, while I was far fucking from it.

Leaning in I kissed the side of her head, leaving my face buried against her. "You can do this, honey."

She only nodded again, taking several heavy breaths, as if she was preparing herself, when Lauren announced that she was having another contraction.

"Deep breath and hold it," the doc instructed her before Bella squeezed her eyes shut and pulled herself forward, almost taking me with her.

Okay, so she might not have thrown me across the room, but she wasn't far off it. She was rock hard, her muscles tense, and putting all her strength into it.

She pushed again, and then again, and then again. She pushed like this for more times than I could count, putting everything she had into it, but it seemed to be going fucking agonizingly slow, and she was starting to get frustrated.

"I feel like I'm pushing against a brick wall!" she burst, sounding pissed off, before throwing herself back against the bed as she fought to catch her breath.

"Bella, you're doing a great job. Don't give up. He's almost crowning," Lauren encouraged her, and I think she assumed the baby was a boy by hearing Bella refer to him as a "he".

"He is?" Bella asked surprised turning to me and allowing me to pull her upright again.

I only nodded, but it was bullshit. I hadn't really looked. I didn't want to—not yet, at least.

"He is," the doc confirmed. "He's got a good amount of dark hair."

"I can't feel a damn thing!" Bella complained, making both Lauren and the doc laugh.

"Bella, you're the first woman I've ever heard who was upset because she _couldn't _feel anything." Dr. Kendrick continued to laugh.

Getting the baby to crown was one thing, but getting his head out was something else altogether. His head would emerge to his eyebrows and then go back in, then emerge and go back in, over and over. Bella had been pushing for an hour, she was getting tired and out of breath, and the baby's heart rate was starting to drop.

"Bella, I know you're tired, but so is the baby," the doc said to her, her tone beginning to sound dire. "We have to get him out."

But Bella was shattered. She had nothing left. I could feel her becoming weaker and weaker, while her expression was beginning to reflect how anxious she was, and how defeated she was beginning to feel.

And the doc was beginning to mention the word "vacuum" to Lauren.

I was guessing they didn't expect Bella to overhear, considering she was all but passed out against my shoulder, but she heard, all right.

Immediately straightening up in absolute fucking fear, she shook her head adamantly. "No—I _can do this_!" she insisted.

"Okay, Bella, if you're going to do it, do it now." The Doc was serious this time; she kept watching the monitor, lines of worry beginning to deeply crease her forehead.

Bella pushed, she pushed hard, practically bending herself in half, but she couldn't get his head out.

"Honey, help me. I _can't_ do it," she gasped, completely fucking exhausted, before she broke into tears.

As much as seeing her like this was completely fucking with me, I had to snap her out of it, and get her focused again.

"Baby, listen to me." I turned her to face me. "You have to get _angry_, because I can't do this for you. Youhaveto get him out _now_."

She only stared at me for a moment, her brow slightly quirked, before she spoke one word, "_Him_?"

Shit!

"I-I was alternating," I fucking stammered, completely giving it away.

A small smile lit up across her face, before she shook her head, not even remotely convinced. "You've only ever called him petri dish."

"Next contraction, Bella. This is it!" Dr. Kendrick interjected, the tone of her voice now urgent.

Pulling Bella upright again, and holding her thigh with my other hand, I looked down between her legs, properly, for the first time.

Then taking a deep breath, and digging deep, she pushed stubbornly, refusing to give in, despite how completely fucking drained she was.

"That's it, baby—keep going!" I burst, almost too fucking scared to breathe, as I watched the baby's little dark-haired head—hair the same color as Bella's—slowly emerge, until it was completely born.

I think we all sighed in fucking relief, while Bella slumped up against me, struggling to catch her breath. "Please tell me it's over, Edward," she pleaded with me, her voice no more than a whisper, before she closed her eyes.

"You're almost there, honey," I murmured against her hair, fighting hard to keep myself together. I was turning into a fucking wreck.

"The hard part's over, Bella," the doc promised her, her tone encouraging, but sympathetic. Only another woman could really understand what Bella was going through, after all. "Do you want to feel his head?"

Bella only shook her head, her eyes remaining clamped shut, before I took her hand, and gently placed it over the baby's head.

Her eyes snapped open, her entire face brightening in almost disbelief, before she straightened herself up, and gazed down between her legs. "Oh. . ." was all she whispered, being quickly overrun with emotion.

"This is it, Bella. One more push and he'll be here. I'm going to help you this time," the doc assured her, and the concern had almost completely dissolved from her face.

Seeing the baby had energized Bella, giving her the final strength she needed, and for the last time, she sucked in her breath, and pushed down, again pulling me forward with her. And with the assistance of the doc, who eased his shoulders out, the baby slipped from Bella's body; with a gush of fluid behind him.

I kissed her brow, impulsively, resting my forehead against hers—feeling like I was going to drop—just as she released her breath, loudly, audibly; uttering some completely fragmented sound of relief.

This is when I well and truly lost it.

Dr. Kendrick held him up, a broad grin on her face. He sort of made a choking sound several times, before he started screaming, his hands reaching out before him.

He was . . . well . . . _me_. A _darker-haired_ me. Poor little. . .

Tears were pouring down my face before I could stop them—before I was even aware of them.

"Oh my god. . ." Bella spoke, in complete awe and disbelief, her voice broken and barely audible.

I turned back to her, she was crying, openly, her expression raw, and full of a thousand emotions, as Lauren laid the bed back, and moved her gown aside, just as Dr. Kendrick placed the baby on her naked chest.

With tears streaming in rivers down her face, Bella planted her lips against the top of his head—leaving her face buried against him for a moment—before she turned to me, and when she met my gaze her expression completely surrendered and broke.

"Honey. . . " she said, her voice so wretchedly hoarse and fractured, before I all but literally collapsed on top of her; pulling her to me.

I kissed her, over and over, repeatedly, every inch of her face. I was laughing, I was fucking sobbing, but I was so overcome I couldn't utter a single word.

"Look what we did. . ." Bella whispered in my ear.

"It was all you, baby," I replied, completely emotionally fucking conquered, before I looked down at him.

The doc and Lauren were suctioning his mouth and nose, and rubbing him vigorously. He looked shell-shocked, his cries increasing, while the sound of it correlated with each impact to his back.

I think I laughed, hastily rubbing the tears from my eyes. I didn't expect to love this kid like I did—and sure as hell not straight away—but right then I was finding it hard to grasp exactly how much I did.

After he was dry, and breathing clearer, the doc allowed Bella to hold him to her for a few minutes, and almost immediately he quieted down. Bella spoke to him softly, and as if recognizing her voice he opened his eyes, squinting immediately from the light, before looking up at her. For the longest moment they only stared at each other, Bella with tears continuing to free-fall down her cheeks, with the most incredible expression on her face, and the baby with this all-knowing kind of wonder.

It threatened to tear my heart straight out of my chest.

Caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers, Bella brought his little hand to her lips, before turning to me, and cupping her hand on my face. "He looks exactly like you."

"Yeah, he's a good-looking devil," I teased her, my voice catching, before placing my hand on his back; beneath the material of Bella's hospital gown. He was warm and breathing evenly, making funny little sounds, and I swear, I almost cracked open again.

After another minute together, Lauren took the baby, and placed him on his back against Bella's stomach.

"Do you want to cut his cord, Dad?" she offered with a smile, holding out a pair of weird-looking scissors to me.

"Yeah," I replied, more eager than I imagined I'd feel, before taking them, my hands fucking shaking, and after Lauren clamped two sides of the cord, I carefully cut in between.

He was beginning to get unsettled again, his lower lip quivering, before Lauren carried him over to a little station, beneath heated lights, to check him over and measure him.

I turned back to Bella, who was wiping her eyes dry, despite the fact that the tears continued to fall. Her face was flushed, and she looked completely fucking exhausted, but she was more beautiful than I'd ever seen her. It's not that I could even tell her, though; she'd only throw me that smirk and tell me to stop being sappy. But I loved her so fucking much right now, it made everything that had ever happened before this moment—finding her again after the years we were apart—seem trivial.

"Hey," I said, my voice tender, before bending down to press my lips to her clammy forehead.

"Hey," she echoed me, grabbing hold of my shirt with both her fists, pulling me closer to her. "Go over with him," she urged me, softly.

"I'm staying here," I insisted, while the baby started screaming again behind us.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was on the scale, rolling all over the place as he curled himself up into a ball.

"He's cold," Bella observed to herself, and there was something in her voice that made me think she might pull herself up out of the bed and scoop him up into her arms.

"Seven pounds seven ounces," Lauren announced, before she again carried him under the lights, where she began to wrap him up.

"Lucky sevens," the doc added smiling to herself, before busying herself again between Bella's legs, and I was just in time to see her gather up the placenta, as it was expelled from Bella's body, and place it into a tray.

I'd seen just about everything; blood, a lot of blood, bones tearing through skin, head wounds, vomit, corpses—everything, but right then I felt myself begin to sway. I was running on adrenalin alone, and I was pretty sure the reserves of it were just about up.

Lauren brought the baby over to us again, then instead of giving him to Bella, she placed him in my arms, before inclining Bella's bed a little more vertical, so she wasn't lying flat.

It snapped the bullshit out of me immediately, and as I stared down at him, an involuntary smile formed across my face. He was wearing a little blue hat that was slipping into his eyes, and after I pulled it up again, he opened them and gazed up at me—like he knew the secrets of the universe. His eyes were blue. Really blue; blue like . . . my father's.

I felt myself waver again, and after running my hand down my face to disguise my tears, I turned and handed him carefully to Bella.

She was sitting more upright now, as she cradled him to her, planting her lips against his beanie'd head; her eyes once again beginning to drown in tears.

Shaking her head to herself, she turned to me, her voice catching. "I never thought this day would ever come."

I smiled at both of them, knowing it was completely fucking fractured, before kissing the side of her brow. "Are you finally happy now, you pain in the ass?"

She burst into a choked sort of laugh, nodding, before gazing back down at the baby.

"I can barely fathom how much," she murmured. "Are you happy?" she asked me a moment later, her eyes meeting mine again.

"Yeah, he'll do," I joked, before a faint smirk lightened her expression.

"Stop it."

Unfortunately for Bella, she wasn't done. She'd received a second degree tear and the doc needed to take care of it. Only this time she did have to put Bella's legs in the stirrups, but it's not that Bella cared anymore.

Me? I tried not to think about it. It was one of those things that went with childbirth, as the doc explain, but fuck me. . .

While Dr. Kendrick was taking care of one end of her, Lauren helped Bella attach the baby to her breast. He latched on almost immediately, his mouth wide as if he knew exactly what he was searching for, before he sucked slowly away.

Bella only sighed, as if she was about to pass out, laying her head back against the pillow, before she turned to me and smiled, warmly.

"You're beautiful," I stated, feeling suddenly overcome again.

Of course her smile only brightened in amusement. "Cheeseball."

I half laughed, but I was about to start sobbing again. I gazed down at the baby; he was clutching several strands of Bella's hair in his little fist, and every time he sucked, his eyes dipped sleepily.

"It's been a rough day," Bella whispered to him, running her fingertips along the side of his face, before gently removing his hat and curling her fingers through his hair.

He had a fine amount of dark brown hair, but on top of his head, to his crown, it was slightly longer, as if he had a mohawk.

It was fucked up adorable.

"You did good, baby," I murmured, and when she turned to me, I kissed her lips.

She kissed me back, and again a little longer and when she pulled back she sighed again, kind of smiling to herself. "You saw me screaming in pain and you survived."

I scoffed beneath my breath, breaking into a grin. "You weren't exactly screaming."

She chuckled softly, gazing down at the baby; he'd fallen asleep, and right at that moment, he shuddered, letting go of her breast.

It was the most adorable thing imaginable, and Bella and I both broke into the same impulsive smile, before she leaned in and kissed me again. "Thank you, honey, for talking me into getting the epidural. Those things are incredible."

I only smiled, glad I was able to talk her into it, as well. She'd had a hard enough time getting him out _with_ an epidural. It would have been seriously fucking disturbing if she had to go through all that while feeling everything.

"You're pretty tough, buttercup," I teased her, warmly, and I didn't know until that moment, just how much she was. I sure as hell wouldn't have been able to do what she'd done today.

She threw me that smile of hers, despite the fact that she was beyond exhausted. "It was horrible and _completely amazing _at the same time, but I'm _so_ _glad _I'll never have to do it again."

**. . .**

Jack was born November 15th. Nine days overdue, and four days after our second wedding anniversary.

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**A/N: It's a booooooy! Awww. A couple of you guessed right. Most said, girl, but come on, peeps, a girl was too obvious!  
Alrighty, let me know your thoughts? I pretty much wrote my birth experience with my first baby. Except he was a pound bigger and I had no epidural. At the time I weighed 100 pounds, if that, and he was a big baby for me. It was hard going getting him out. My husband turned into a puddle of moosh. It was pretty sweet, actually.**

**If you want to see a pic of Jack and his mowhawk there's a link on my profile. **


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: A bit of filler, from Edward, but jeez, people, you sure like babies. I got the most reviews ever (for this fic) and while not a lot, you guys got me over the half millennia. So SMOOCH! XOXOX**

* * *

**Because of you**

**Chapter 35**

**Edward's POV.**

By the time Jack was four months old, it soon became obvious that he was all Bella. He might have looked like me, but everything else was his mother. I realized it the first time he smiled at me—when he really smiled at me. It was almost cynical, as though he thought I was completely nuts; reminding me exactly of Bella.

It made me love him that much more, while realizing I was definitely off the hook. I guess, while I might have deserved a kid exactly like me, Bella didn't.

He was a good boy, and quiet for a baby. Nothing was a hassle with him. He fed well, he slept through the night at six weeks old, and he didn't often cry; though, when he did, Bella was always able to settle him down, not long after.

The only problem we'd had with him was getting him to sleep in his own bed when we first brought him home from the hospital. He'd only sleep in it for a few minutes before he'd wake up and scream until Bella picked him up again. With a newborn we were both sleep deprived anyway, on top of having absolutely no fucking idea what we were doing. I wanted to let him scream it out, but Bella only looked at me like I'd suggested putting him to bed in the fleabag's doghouse.

So, for the first few weeks, it was just easier to put him in bed with me and Bella. Only it made both of us nervous, and Bella was rarely sleeping at all. In the end, Angela told us about a crib that could be adjusted to attach to the side of our bed. It was an instant success. Jack had his own space, safe from me rolling on him, while still being in arms reach of Bella. So long as he could feel Bella's hand, whether it was over him, or he was grasping one of her fingers, he was happy, and we were all finally sleeping.

That boy loved his mother more than I did.

When Jack was a month old Bella went back to the restaurant, but I knew instantly she wasn't happy. She was breastfeeding him, so he had to be with her, but she hated the idea of him spending all day strapped to her in a sling.

"It's not good for him," she broke down and admitted after the first week back. "He's more alert now, he needs to be stimulated."

At the time I just thought she had Post Natal Depression or whatever the hell it was. I had no idea what she was beginning to contemplate.

Of course, just about everyone in the town offered to mind the baby while Bella was working—so long as she expressed enough milk—but she flat out refused to entertain that idea. In the end Bella took the door off the storeroom and turned it into Jack's home away from home. He was a popular little devil, and for a while Bella allowed a lot of her customers to hold him while she was busy, but once he got to a certain age if he couldn't see Bella he'd throw a fit. So he was back to being in his storeroom/nursery where Bella spent fifty percent of her time with him.

It was working, but I knew Bella wasn't exactly happy about it. And I suspected the little vixen was too proud to admit it.

Not long after, Ang and Ben Moved to Sequim. Ben had put in a transfer to the Sequim Police Department when Ang was pregnant with their second baby. He wanted his family out of Forks, and I couldn't fucking blame him. I wanted mine out as well, but swaying Bella wasn't going to be as easy. She was devastated at having Ang so far away, and in the beginning I thought she might start considering the idea of us moving as well; though, in the end, she never mentioned anything.

Outside of Bella's family there was fuck all for us in Forks. It was a logger's town with more bushy bearded old men than there were young families. Bella had a strong sense of loyalty to her uncle and cousin for taking her in when she was a kid in Australia, but she had her own family now and I was hoping it would be redirected. I just wish I knew what the fuck I needed to say to her to get her to agree to moving.

Originally, I wanted to take Bella and Jack back to Seattle. Bella and Rose were pretty tight, and the schools were a shit ton better than anything within a fifty mile radius of Forks, but I'd never get Bella to agree to move so far from her family. Port Angeles was my back up plan, and it began to appeal to me more and more every day. We wouldn't have to drive an hour and a half, with the baby screaming in the back seat, to go to fucking Costco every month, or to the cinema, or to eat anywhere other than Bella's diner. There was peewee sports, and Boy Scouts, and baby swim classes at Sequim Aquatic Recreation Center—something I knew Bella wanted to take Jack to. And then there was Ang. Ang and the fact that she'd only be a five minute drive away was my trump card.

Bella was lonely without Ang; that was obvious enough. After Jack was born, the two of them had become closer, and now with her and Ben over an hour away I knew it had left a void in Bella's life. I definitely knew the idea of having her close again would make a difference; I just wasn't sure how much.

I was probably jumping the gun, but I'd been looking at Real Estate during my lunch breaks, and realized if I could get Bella to give up the restaurant, we would be able to afford a decent four bedroom, two bathroom house on half an acre—plenty of room for Jack to play in when he got older, and I'd only be five minutes from work. And let's get real, Bella's restaurant paid the mortgage, and barely more than that. I had no fucking idea how she was surviving before I moved in with her; though, I had a suspicion her father was depositing money into her bank account.

So that was the plan, and I'd been psyching myself up for weeks to even break the ice on the idea with her. I had to fucking man up and get it over with.

Bella had called me that afternoon, just before I left to come home, to tell me Jack had cut his first tooth. Of course she said it with the same pride as if he'd just figured out the theory of relativity, but then, the poor kid had been miserable for a couple of weeks over it, so I was just as relieved as she was. And I figured, it was as good a time as any.

**. . .**

The fleabag almost barreled me over the moment I stepped through the back door, like he always did; his plastic squeaky toy, in the shape of a bone, wedged between his teeth. After wrestling with him for a few minutes, I yanked the toy from his mouth and threw it toward the back of the yard. The furry asshole took off after it, and I knew I had thirty-five seconds flat to get to the kid's room and lock the little shit out.

Bella gave Jack a bath at five-thirty, then had some quiet time with him before feeding him and putting him to bed. He was five months now, and we'd only just moved him from the crib into his cot. He was still in our room, of course, and over the last couple of weeks Bella had been slowly moving the cot away from the side of our bed. It was about half a meter away now, and as long as Jack could see Bella he was fine.

I was beginning to worry the kid would turn into a mommy's boy—not that Bella would think there was anything wrong with that, or anything.

Bella put him down to sleep at six-thirty, or seven, depending on what time I got home—she liked me to spend time with him first—and he usually slept through the night. Occasionally he'd wake up, and if Bella couldn't soothe him back off to sleep by rubbing his belly, she'd put him on her breast for a couple of minutes.

Her breasts, they were fucking huge—and all Jack's. Bella wouldn't let me anywhere near them. At least, she wasn't as tolerant as she once was.

"Hey, baby," I greeted her; she was sitting in the rocking chair by the window in Jack's room, reading him a story. She was always reading to him. Her hair was long again—it had grown like a weed when she was pregnant—and Jack was clutching several strands of it; tugging on it.

Her eyes rose to meet mine, before a warm smile broke across her face. "Hey, honey."

Leaning over I pressed my lips to hers, and then again, before ruffling Jack's mohawk. He still had it, despite the bald patch at the back of his head. "Hey, squirt."

His eyes locked with mine over the book Bella was reading to him—Jack and the Beanstalk—before his entire face brightened into a drooly grin. His eyes were still as blue as ever. I thought initially they'd darken and turn brown like Bella's, but they'd remained my father's eyes from the day he was born.

I broke into the same involuntary smile I always did every time he flashed me that grin—the little shit knew me already—before Bella pulled herself out of the rocking chair, handing Jack to me as she did.

"Want a coffee?" she asked, passing me and heading to the door.

"I can get it, baby," I offered, before she only turned back to me, throwing me a funny look, before grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her.

"I want to talk about something," she elaborated a moment later, half way down the stairs, sounding almost vague—as if she wanted to _appear_ vague.

When we reached the kitchen Bella switched on the coffee maker. I watched her for a moment; she appeared casual enough, but I knew something was going on.

"So, what do you want to talk about, buttercup?" I prompted her lightly, pressing my lips to Jacks forehead, before strapping him in his bouncy chair on the kitchen table. He always smelled so damn good—it was the organic baby bath stuff Bella washed him in, I was guessing.

She placed my coffee in front of me, before taking the chair opposite, her brow beginning to knot. She hadn't made herself one. She didn't drink caffeine at night; it kept the baby up.

"Baby, what's—you okay?" I asked her, unsure if I should be concerned or not.

"I spoke to Sue today," she began, her eyes rising to meet mine, and flooding with the same damn mystery they always were.

"Okay. . ." I coaxed her to continue.

"She agreed to buy the restaurant from me," she confessed, before she sighed, and shrugged her shoulder, while I almost choked on my fucking coffee.

"Baby—you want to sell it?" I asked her, my voice almost failing.

Holy shit! How did I not know she was feeling this way?

She nodded, appearing lost in thought for a moment, before she began explaining to me—as if she thought she had to, "It takes up too much of my time, honey, and I don't want Jack's childhood to be spent in the restaurant storeroom. I want to spend more time with him—he's our one and only."

"I know," I murmured, reaching out to grab her hand. "Whatever you want to do, baby, you know I'll support you."

She broke into an immediate smile, almost looking like she was relieved.

Did she think I'd be against it? I gazed at her for a moment, trying to figure her out.

"Baby, what . . . did you. . . ?" I eventually questioned her, before abandoning it.

Jack started kicking and babbling away, diverting Bella's attention for a moment. Then after handing him his rubber hammer—that he liked to chew on—she turned back to me, her expression almost reluctant. "We'd be okay . . . on one income, wouldn't we?"

Jesus, this wasn't some twisted form of mother's guilt, or anything, I was fucking hoping. We'd had enough of that the last few months.

"Bella, come on—of course we will," I stated. I mean it went without fucking saying; I could provide for my family!

"We won't have a mortgage," she added, sounding as if she was trying to convince me—or _herself_.

I only gauged her for a moment. She was struggling with something, and as usual she was keeping it from me. "Bella?" I prompted her, my tone more serious this time.

Meeting my gaze, she only raised her brows in emphasis.

"Talk to me," I appealed to her, softly.

She shrugged again, but her eyes were suddenly becoming overrun with something fucking heavy. "I bought the restaurant when we were apart. It was my entire life. I don't know. . . In a way I'm happy to be giving it up, but in another. . ." she left it unspoken, but she didn't have to finish; I understood.

Getting to my feet, I grabbed her hand, pulling her around to me, and into my arms. She melted instantly against me, before releasing her breath in one huge gush, wrapping her arms around me.

The restaurant. . . As much as I'd been hoping and fucking praying for two and a half years that she would eventually come to this decision, hearing her refer to her _restaurant_ always made me laugh to myself. It wasn't a restaurant so much as it was a diner, but Bella was still such an _Australian._

"It's the right thing to do, isn't it?" she asked me in a small voice.

"Of course it is," I assured her, "and then you can do all the things with squirt that you want to, like take him to swimming classes."

Okay, so I was stalling . . . and using the baby to ease her into it.

"Yeah. . ." she mumbled in agreement, before she suddenly pulled back and eyed me hesitantly. "Honey, what? You're going all tense."

And just like that it had gone from her to me, because Bella was always more in tune with me than I was with her.

I stammered, fucking faltering, opening and closing my mouth several times trying to figure out the best way to say it to her. All it did was increase her apprehension, and just as she was about to question me over it, I made up my mind to just put it to her straight.

"What if we move?"

Right at that moment, Jack dropped his hammer, and instantly began to bitch over it—and probably the fact that he wanted his mother's breast. It broke the momentum, as Bella picked it up from the table and handed it back to him, before placing his pacifier in his mouth. But she couldn't hide her expression from me. It was full of fucking doubt and reluctance.

Fuck.

"Where to?" she asked a moment later, her brow furrowing, and I wasn't sure if she was totally against the idea or if she was considering it.

"Port Angeles, Sequim maybe—baby, you'll be close to everything without having to drive back and forth on the Olympic Highway all the damn time. I won't have to worry about the two of you, and it's close to work for me," I hastily tried to sell it to her before she could shut me down. Then taking a breath, I added what I was hoping would be the coup de fucking grace, "And we'll be close to Ang and Ben again."

And because babies have the worst fucking timing, Jack chose that exact moment to start kicking off; this time for real. He was hungry.

Severing my gaze, Bella turned back to him, getting him out of his chair. "Can I think about it, honey?" she asked without looking at me; though her voice was soft, as if she was remaining conscious of my feelings.

"Sure," I said, sounding too fucking needy, before she handed me the baby.

"Say goodnight, Dad," she said lightly on behalf of Jack, a smile tugging at her lips.

He was clinging to me, unsure what he was supposed to do with himself. He got like that when he was hungry. Milk made the kid a little nuts.

"Good night, squirt. Give me a kiss," I said to him, breaking into the same smile, before I kissed his lips quickly—just as half my face became covered in his drool.

"We'll talk about it again in a minute, honey, okay?" Bella promised me, before carrying jack toward the stairs.

"Okay," I echoed her, hastily wiping my mouth on my shoulder. I was feeling suddenly more at ease about it all, as I watched Bella carry Jack upstairs, breaking into a broad grin; he was attempting to suction his mouth to her breast through her shirt.

That kid was definitely my son.

**. . .**

"I'm beginning to think that boy of ours is a drunk," Bella said, half laughing softly beneath her breath, before sliding up to me on the sofa, roughly forty minutes later.

"He out cold?" I asked, snaking my arm around her waist and tugging her closer to me.

"Yeah," she said simply, leaning against my shoulder before tucking her legs beneath her. "So, I was thinking about it while I was feeding him. . ." she began, sounding cryptic, before expelling her breath in a gush, and my immediate impression was that she was definitely against it.

"What?" I prompted her, beginning to feel fucking pessimistic about it.

"I think you're right," she murmured, surprising me so much I immediately straightened up.

"Yeah?"

Her lips tugged slightly in an inward smile, before she turned to gaze at me. She was finding secret amusement in me, I quickly realized; because there was nothing amusing about the idea of moving for her.

"You know Forks means a lot to me," she began, her eyes severing from mine for a moment.

"I know," I said gently, dropping my lips to the side of her face.

"But at the same time, there's nothing here for Jack, and I hate driving back and forth to Port Angeles all the time—I hate you doing it every day." She turned to me, burying her face against my neck. "So, let's move."

Fuck, I loved her. The prospect of moving, leaving her uncle and Jacob, was hurting her—a lot, but she was always on my side, and she'd do anything for that kid of ours. It made me wonder why I ever doubted her.

Cupping my palm to her cheek, I turned her to face me, kissing her repeatedly.

"Other stuff?" I uttered half against her lips, as her arms curled around my neck.

"_Regular _stuff," she corrected me, breaking into a small grin before it became lost against my mouth again a moment later.

Scooping her up in my arms and struggling to get to my feet, I carried her blindly to the downstairs spare bedroom. Bella had set up a double bed in there for us, so we wouldn't wake the baby. Not long ago the little shit had busted us in the middle of sex in our bed. I opened my eyes, completely on top of his mother, to the little shit gazing at me, his mouth wide open; as if he was wondering what the fuck I was doing to his mother. The moment Bella realized Jack was awake and watching, she pushed me off her, and wrapped the sheets around her as if the baby was fully aware of what we'd been doing. So from that moment on, we were forced to make alternative arrangements.

Kids. . . As much as I loved the little grunter, they didn't make shit easy.

"What about dinner?" she put to me, needing to force herself back, before I dropped her down on the bed.

"Fuck dinner," I mumbled, before ripping my shirt from my back and crawling on top of her.

The doc had advised me and Bella not to have sex until Jack was at least six weeks old. By then Bella's body would have recovered, but having Jack had caused a fair amount of damage to her, and she wasn't even close to being healed by that point. It took twice that long for all her stitches to dissolve and several more weeks before she wanted to brave it. She was almost as apprehensive about it as she was when she was seventeen and a virgin, and I had to be careful with her. But it didn't take us long to get back to where we were before all the drama of getting Jack was involved.

Thank fuck.

**. . .**

The turnover on the diner took just over a month. Sue had moved in with Bella's Uncle and had sold her house, and the diner was a lot better for her than it was for Bella—she'd been working in it before Bella had taken it over, and Forks was her entire life. During that time we put the house on the market, and got to work looking at real estate in Port Angeles. On my days off we went house hunting, and while I was working, Bella travelled to visit Ang and the pair of them searched the local real estate together—mostly around Sequim.

We weren't expecting to sell the house so soon, but after only a month on the market a yuppie, childless couple from Seattle bought it as their holiday home—carrying on how fucking _quaint_ and _charming_ it was, while gushing over the baby as if he was a part of the furniture.

Patronizing assholes!

We had six weeks to move out, and we still hadn't found a suitable house to buy. We were faced with the prospect of renting one, when Bella's uncle offered Bella's old bedroom to us. It meant the three of us were crammed into one room, but jesus, talk about déjà vu! I hadn't slept in Bella's room since I was eighteen—before my damn family had put themselves between us, tearing us apart. It brought a lot of shit back that I'd long since made peace with, not to mention all the family crap I'd pushed under the rug since Bella had got pregnant with Jack. More specifically the promise I'd made to forgive Alice and my mother.

The day Jack was born, I'd been so fucking delirious I'd actually rang Alice to tell her. She'd bawled down the phone, immediately reading more into it than what it actually was—which was her typical fucking style. I was forced to put a fucking stopper on her, telling her she needed to wait until Bella was ready. I never brought it up to Bella, though, and she'd never mentioned anything. Having a newborn took all our time and attention, and it's not that I'd deliberately avoided it; not really. We were just so fucking happy, that I wanted no distractions; nothing to jeopardize it.

We'd waited too fucking long for it, after all.

A couple of weeks after Jack was born, Bella sent out birth announcement cards with his photo on the front. She hadn't mentioned it to me, but she'd sent one to Alice and another to my mother. I only found out because a couple of weeks later we'd received a huge box of baby stuff from Carlisle and Mother Dearest. This was when Bella fessed up, almost cringing away from me as if she expected me to be pissed. It took a lot of reassurance that I was okay about it, but I think Bella assumed she was pushing me, and that's as far as any outreach went.

It's not as if it was going anywhere, or anything. . .

**. . .**

The first night in Bella's room shook me more than I expected. It was exactly the same as it had been when we were kids. It was a fucking time capsule, from the fairy lights that hung around her bed, to her squeaky bed springs. It brought it all back—every fucking bit of it. The fact that we'd had a life prior to our first day, three years ago, and that she'd meant just as much to me back then as she did right now. And how it fucked with me every day and night when I lost her, thinking it was my fault—being_ told_, fucking repeatedly, that it was my fault.

All the while never knowing.

It made me reconsider that promise I'd made, over and fucking over again.

It's not that I could dwell on it for long, even if I wanted to. Being in a strange room, despite being in his cot, unsettled the baby, and he barely slept. It didn't help that Bella's bed springs kept all three of us awake, and when I did sleep, the feel, and fucking smell, of the room took me right back in time, following me into my dreams. It wasn't just me who was spooked by it, either. I knew Bella was feeling the same thing, though neither of us mentioned it.

What could we say to each other?

For six weeks we lived in Bella's old room, being haunted by the past every fucking minute we were there, before we finally found a house and moved in. It was only a couple of blocks from Angela and Ben's house in Sequim, but I was happy to let Bella decide on it. It was a single level house—Bella didn't want stairs with Jack—with four bedrooms, two and a half baths and a basement on just under an acre of land.

Shortly after Angela threw us a house warming party. Rose and Emmett came, with my feral nephew in tow, and so did Bella's father. He sure did think the world of his grandson—talk about seeing the man of steel melt into a puddle of drool. He'd first met Jack when he was a couple of months old, and for a moment Bella and I thought he was going to start sobbing. It was the first time I realized the man had real emotions inside that hardened exterior of his. Plus Jack thought he was some kind of super hero, looking up at him like he was Zeus.

Of course, the little rat sent us a house warming gift, and a few weeks later we got one in the mail from Carlisle and Mom. I was okay with that—comfortable with it. I could do Christmas cards and birthday gifts—hell, Bella had sent the little rat's freaky little twins a first birthday present without the world coming to an end.

Of course, I knew sooner or later we'd have to face them again, but at that point in time I wasn't worried about it too much. Washington was a big enough state that we could live our lives side by side without ever colliding with each other.

**. . .**

The following month Bella turned twenty-nine. I'd planned on taking her out to dinner, but we all came down with the damn stomach flu after Jack picked it up at a play group Bella had taken him to. He was almost ten months, had already taken his first steps, and was getting into everything. Bella figured playgroup would stimulate him more, while tiring him out at the same time, but all it did was make him sick. In the first month he was there he came down with anything and everything; the puking bug being the worst of it.

Jack and I were over it in twenty-four hours, despite the kid puking all over me several times, but Bella's seemed to drag out. For several weeks after she was still tired, nauseous and continued to throw up on and off. I was really beginning to worry about her, despite her constant reassurances that she was fine. Angela didn't help, either, informing me that the first year after having a baby always wears you out, and she went through the same thing after Lilly.

"I came down with every bug going around—of course, it didn't help that I got pregnant again when Lilly was eleven months old," Ang added, laughing and making Bella groan in good nature; though she looked genuinely disturbed—by the idea of being pregnant again with Jack being so young, I was guessing.

Not that that was even possible with us.

Bella was laying on the sofa; I'd made her go to the doctor's the day before, and he'd diagnosed her with a virus that was going around. Some exotic fucking thing that made you feel generally like death, apparently; which fit right in with Bella's symptoms. She was sent home with the promise to take it easy and keep her fluids up.

I'd called Ang around to help her out; though, putting Jack and Josh together pretty much defeated the purpose. Josh was four months older, and wherever he went Jack followed—even if it was on all fours. I suspected it was the reason why he was in such a hurry to walk; they were constantly around each other, and Jack got frustrated at being left behind.

"Sure you're okay, baby?" I asked, shoving my hand through my parka, ready to leave for work, but I couldn't shrug off my concern over her.

"I'm fine, honey," she said, half rolling her eyes at me, her smile turning warm, before her attention diverted back to Jack.

He was gripping the side of the sofa in front of her, bobbing up and down with the goofiest grin on his face, making Bella laugh softly to herself.

"Aww, ma-ma," he babbled, patting her on the head with probably too much force that he was practically smacking her.

"We're going to have a quiet day and watch Moana," Ang relayed, making me smirk cynically to myself.

"Good luck with that," I joked, picking Jack up and plodding him down next to Lilly and Josh. Lilly was diving in Jack's toy box, while Josh was throwing Duplo bricks all over the living room; which was pretty typical.

A quiet day with three kids under two years old. . . If anything Ang was optimistic, but in serious denial. I was glad I'd be at work—and that we only had one kid.

But Jack didn't want to hang with Josh; I suspected he wanted his mother's breast, and immediately crawled back over to her. Bella was still breast feeding; though, she was trying to ween him off, but so far the little grunter refused to give it up. I was convinced it was the reason why Bella was so drained. Having Jack sucking her dry day and night would wear anyone out. The kid was no light weight, either.

"No, baby," Bella spoke gently to him, removing his hand from the tight grip he had on her shirt and bringing it to her lips. "Honey," she glanced up at me, "can you get him his sippy cup?"

"Ma-ma, Ma-ma. . ." Jack was beginning to whine, whacking Bella in the chest this time.

Hoisting him up in my arms, I carried him into the kitchen, but the little shit kept trying to throw himself backwards in protest.

"Jack! No!" I snapped, shocking the life out of him for a moment, before he immediately started bawling, pitifully.

As pathetic as they were, that was as far as his hissy-fits lasted; though; he took advantage of his mother, who was way too easy on him.

He took his cup of milk begrudgingly, and this time sat beside Josh and Lilly, drinking it with silent tears running down his face.

The little shit almost made me feel bad.

"Okay, baby, take it easy," I said with a sigh, bending down to press my lips to her brow. "Call me if you need anything."

"Honey, good grief! I'm fine," she insisted again, throwing me that grin. "Go to work, already."

"_Orrite_, woman," I said lightly, teasing her, and laughing beneath my breath when she scowled at me, before turning to Ang. "Don't let him walk over her."

**. . .**

It took Bella a month to finally start recovering from this virus of hers. A month where I couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was going on; though of course she completely dismissed me, insisting I was overreacting. If I was or not, she did eventually start feeling better and we started planning squirt's first birthday.

By this time he was all but running around the house, having mastered walking a couple of weeks earlier, with Bella usually not far behind him. We needed child proof locks on everything, but the little shit managed to crack every one of them. As much as he was still so much like Bella, his personality grew every day—with a bit too much of me seeping in—and he was a damn handful. It was a "boy thing" Ang attempted to assure us, not to mention Rose, only with a huge fucking side helping of "I told you so" added in.

Of course, Bella naturally thought he was a genius, refusing to come down hard on him every time he got into one of the cupboards in the house—despite whatever childproof bullshit was latched to it—and pulling shit out everywhere. It didn't help that the fleabag was his accomplice, and was soon in cahoots with Jack when it came to making off with shit.

But, I was always going to be the one to discipline him; Bella was too much of a softie when it came to everything with that kid.

Despite this, despite tripping up and almost breaking my neck on one of Jack's toys every afternoon when I walked through the front door, and catching every virus he bought home with him—despite his thirty second tantrums, and his insistence on latching on to his mother's breasts at the most inconvenient fucking time—he was generally a good kid, and I wouldn't trade him in for the world. He was sweet and as funny as hell, and seriously protective of his mother. I couldn't even joke around with Bella—and by that I mean grope her—in front of him without him losing his shit, and abusing me. He'd raise his finger at me and babble on, his brow etched seriously, before he'd squeeze himself between me and Bella; wrapping his chunky little arms around her.

"No!" he'd tell me, shoving against my chest, his expression so determined, I could only laugh and kiss that crazy dark-haired head of his.

While the shade of his hair was still identical to Bella's, the waywardness, the cowlick, and the way it stuck up all over the place as though he had perpetual twenty-four hour bed hair, was all me.

Yeah, I loved the kid, and he'd changed our lives in every way for the better, but still, one month until we kicked him out of our room and into his own. One month until he went from being a baby to a toddler. One month until Bella completely weened him.

One month until I got my wife back, and one month until her breasts, her body, were 100% mine, again.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?  
Not many chapters left, now. And this chapter weirded me out. I'm so used to there only being two of them.**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: everything's turning all domestic. . .  
=S**

* * *

**Because of You**

**Chapter 36**

**Bella's POV**

"Duck," Jack said, pointing toward the pond after I'd strapped him into his stroller.

We were meeting Ang, Lilly and Josh for lunch at the Carrie Blake Park, before letting the kids loose in the adjoining playground, but it was feeding the ducks that Jack enjoyed the most.

"Duck—good boy, Jacky!" I praised him brightly, before he turned his big blue eyes to mine and broke into the broadest grin; his six little teeth on full display.

I returned it impulsively, with added affection, before turning back to the car, where Buddy was waiting impatiently to exit.

"Buddy—come," I said, just as he leaped over Jack's car seat and out the door, not really needing any encouragement.

Buddy liked the ducks too; though, not exactly the same way Jack did, and I had to make sure he was restrained at all times.

Threading the loop of Buddy's leash through the right handle of Jack's stroller, I made my way towards the furthest gazebo, where I could just make out Ang and the kids waiting.

"Hey, B. Hi, Jack!" Ang greeted us warmly, before I leaned toward her to accept the welcoming kiss she placed on my cheek.

"Hey, Ang," I replied, just as Lilly attached herself to my leg, and chuckling I tickled her chubby cheek. "Hi, Miss Lilly."

"You look so much better today, B," Ang noted, prying Lilly off me and sitting her at the small round table, beside Josh who was happily munching on what appeared to be chicken nuggets.

"Yeah, I'm getting there," I admitted, bending down to release Jack from his stroller, before sitting him on my lap opposite Ang at the table.

Cryptosporidiosis, the doctor had called it. An intestinal bug often found in heated pools that was currently sweeping through the north western populations of Washington. Dozens of kids had been hospitalised with dehydration, and I was grateful Jack had only come down with a mild dose of it. Though, we did have a rough night with him, where for twelve hours straight he couldn't hold down an ounce of fluid, and just when Edward made up his mind to take him to emergency, Jack promptly decided he was over it. He started pulling on my shirt, letting me know he wanted to nurse, and after a couple of hours where we were optimistic it wasn't going to come back up again, all three of us collapsed in exhaustion.

The next day Edward came down with it, throwing up his dinner only twenty minutes or so after eating it, before he fell asleep; staying that way for ten hours. By morning he was completely fine, and despite my best protests, he still got up and went to work. But then that was pretty much the norm for Edward when he got sick.

Me, on the other hand. . . I was rarely sick, but when I came down with something, I came down with it _big_. I hadn't had so much as a sniffle since getting pneumonia just prior to getting pregnant with Jack, but when I came down with this bug, I was down for the count. For more than a month straight I could barely get through the day without throwing up. I was nauseous from the time I woke up in the morning, until the moment I fell asleep at night, and because I was unable to properly digest anything I was constantly weak and light-headed. And with Jack only just learning to walk it was the worst possible time to get sick.

There wasn't much I could do but keep myself hydrated with electrolytes and continue taking pro-biotics, but it really knocked me around. Thank god for Ang, because if I didn't have her to help me out, Edward would've had to have had time off work. And Edward was, at the time, already stressing me out by the amount of anxiety he was displaying because of it.

As much as I loved him, he was the world's biggest over-reactor, and not the best person to have around when sick.

Reaching into my _diaper_ bag—I got odd looks when I referred to it as a_ nappy bag, _and I didn't want to give Edward any more ammunition against me—I pulled out Jack's lunch; a cheese sandwich and a banana I'd prepared earlier, in a zip lock bag.

Then, removing Jack's woollen beanie from his head, it was early November and winter was already setting in, I kissed his dark, curly-haired crown before handing him a quarter triangle of his sandwich.

Ang only smiled to herself, watching him, before her eyes again rose to mine. "Can you believe he's almost one? Where did the time go?"

"I know," I agreed, my voice dropping to a murmur. It seemed like only yesterday when he was born. What a day that had been. . .

And before I was aware of it, I smiled, knowing it was raw and completely emotionally charged, but I still couldn't think about Jack's birth without crying.

Angela's smile only broadened in understanding, before she reminded me, "I brought my camera."

We'd been trying the last couple of weeks to get some decent photos of Jack for his first birthday, but he'd been too much of a grumpy-pants and wouldn't cooperate.

"Fingers crossed, this time," I added, ducking just in time to avoid being hit by a particle of Josh's discarded lunch; making Jack laugh.

"_Joshua_!" Ang scolded him, as Buddy enthusiastically scooped it from the concrete floor; taking Jack's stroller with him.

"Yuck," was Josh's only response, parroted immediately by Jack; though, Jack had no intention of throwing his lunch around. He liked his food too much—exactly like his father.

Five minutes later, with half a banana squished in his fist, Jack squirmed from my arms to the ground, before immediately taking off toward the duck pond.

I was right behind him, catching him half a dozen steps later before hauling him onto my hip. "Jack, wait for Momma!" I told him firmly, almost struggling to catch my breath. My energy had only just began returning, and it didn't take much for Jack to tire me out.

Placing him back down on his feet, I grabbed his hand, just as Ang caught up with us, pushing my stroller, behind Buddy, with Lilly and Josh beside her; a child safety harness strapped to both their wrists.

I'd tried one of those things with Jack, as well. He'd only looked down at it and immediately yanked off the Velcro strap before glancing up at me with a cheeky grin; looking entirely too much like Edward.

"Duck—duck!" Jack began screeching as a mother duck and a half a dozen or so ducklings floated passed us.

"_Okay_, baby," I replied, attempting to placate him, before reaching into the nappy bag, that was hanging from the handle of the stroller, for the little bag of bread crumbs I'd brought along with us. "Thanks, Ang."

"No problem." She chuckled, before tying Buddy's leash to a nearby park bench, who barked away loudly, more excited than Jack was upon seeing the ducks.

"Oh my god. . ." I sighed to myself, keeping a firm grip on the hoodie of Jack's parka to make sure he didn't nose dive head first into the pond. "I wasn't going to bring Buddy today, but I haven't taken him for a walk in so long, I felt bad for him," I explained to Ang, adding dryly, "This is despite the fact that he spends his days chasing whatever birds that land on the property."

"You should have brought him around to our place," Ang suggested, lightly.  
"Ben needs to see firsthand what owning a dog is like."

"Are you kidding—Edward would have missed him too much," I joked, being suddenly pulled forward by Jack, whom I'm sure had every intention of jumping into the pond if I'd let him. At not quite twelve months old, he was already taller than Josh, and even though he still seemed so little to me, compared to other toddlers his age he really wasn't.

He was going to be _tall_! As tall as his father, or as tall as his grandfather—my father is six feet five—we weren't too sure yet.

"You want to swap kids?" Ang suggested, taking Jack's hand, before handing me Lilly's.

Lilly was more cautious, and she happily stood beside Ang throwing a single piece of breadcrumb at a time. Josh had dumped his entire bag of crumbs in the pond in one go.

"Do I look as tired as I feel?" I muttered, frustrated at myself. Ang could manage both boys, while just five minutes with Jack had already worn me out.

"Just a little bit," Ang admitted, but when I turned to glance at her, her brow was knotted in evident concern.

I shook my head, rubbing at my forehead, irritated. "I think between this bug and weening Jack at the same time, my body's having a hard time getting back to normal."

"But you're pretty irregular, aren't you, B? That wouldn't help," Ang reminded me, gently.

"Yeah," I conceded, rolling my eyes to myself. I really sucked at being female, sometimes. "I'm probably just being impatient, but I mean, I stopped breastfeeding almost a month ago and my boobs are _still_ tender—and I'm still a bloody D-cup! When did yours settle down?"

Ang only gauged me for a moment, her eyes dipping to my chest, before she answered, looking almost guilty. "About a week."

I only huffed, annoyed that everything had to be so hard for me.

"Maybe you should go and get a blood test, B—to make sure your hormones are settling down, and you've got a good level of iron. You've been pretty sick," Ang recommended, picking Jack up with one arm. He was out of bread crumbs and was beginning to lose it.

"Yeah, I probably should," I mumbled, more or less to myself, before taking Jack into my arms. "So long as I can keep it from Edward for the time being," I added, my tone automatically lightening. "He's driving me nuts."

Ang chuckled. "He's definitely a worry-wart."

I hummed, thinking about my doofus husband, my smile turning wry. "He has a bad habit of always assuming the worst."

After calming Jack down with a bottle of milk, Ang and I sat by the playground while the kids played in the sandbox. Though, after five minutes, Jack and Josh wanted to do what all the bigger kids were doing—like climb the stairs to go down the slippery slide—I was on my feet from that moment on making sure my fearless son didn't fall and break his neck.

An hour later we were on our way back home for Jack's afternoon nap, and as tired as I was feeling, I planned on joining him. During the day, I put him down in mine and Edward's bed, and today I snuggled up beside him, sleeping for as long as he did.

When I woke, I made an appointment to see Dr Kendrick.

**. . .**

The following week was mine and Edward's third wedding anniversary. Edward took me out for sushi, and while the smell of it churned my stomach, I did my best to keep up appearances. I'd never really eaten it before, and I doubted I ever would again; though, I did enjoy the California Rolls.

Edward bought me a topaz ring—Jack's birth stone—that he'd slid across the table half way through our meal.

"Aww, honey," I murmured, cupping my palm against the far side of his face before pressing my lips to his cheek. "I love it."

He only smiled warmly for a moment before glancing down, his brow etching, and when he again met my eyes, his were serious. "So, baby, Dr Kendrick called today, while you were in the shower. . ."

My stomach immediately dropped. So much for keeping it from him.

"Oh, right," I replied, the casual tone I was aiming for sounding too forced and all but giving it away.

"What's going on?" he asked, after taking a heavy breath.

"Honey, it's routine—now that I've weened Jack, and I know how you get. . ." I attempted to explain, before letting it go. It didn't matter what I said to Edward, how much I reassured him, he would always worry. What had happened with the last ectopic pregnancy had scarred him more than I would ever really know, and I had to stop downplaying his feelings all the time.

At the same time, I knew how much it tore him up inside; it wasn't exactly healthy for him.

"You've got to stop hiding things from me, baby," he appealed to me, his expression suddenly raw.

Sighing inwardly, I grabbed his hand, attempting to appease him. "I just didn't want to worry you."

He only gazed at me for the longest time, for what reason, I didn't know, before he eventually broke the silence, "Honey, when you had pneumonia you weren't this sick—when you had morning sickness with Jack you weren't this sick. This has been going on—for what? Almost two months now, and you still look shattered."

_Honey._ . .

Reaching below the table, I curved my hand around his thigh, leaning closer to him. "I'm fine—it's this damn bug on top of my hormones transitioning back to before I was pregnant. It's just knocked me out of whack," I promised him, and while the optimism was over emphasised for his benefit, I really wasn't too concerned about anything. I always knew intuitively when something was wrong, and this time I felt completely at ease.

Breaking into a begrudging smile, Edward slung his elbow around my neck, pressing his lips momentarily to the side of my head. "Happy anniversary, you pain in the ass," he whispered into my ear.

"Love you, cheeseball," I murmured back, turning to kiss his lips, tenderly.

Pulling back to meet my gaze, his smile broadened, turning somewhat cynical. "What did you get me?"

"You have to wait until we get home to find out," I teased him, simply, not giving anything away.

His brows immediately shot up, a slow smirk growing across his face. "Oh?"

I only scoffed, softly, shaking my head to myself. "Is your mind ever _not _in the gutter?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged a shoulder, entirely too sure of himself, before shoving some salmon concoction in his mouth, "when I'm changing squirt's_ nappy_."

Taking a deliberate breath, I released it more patiently than I otherwise would have. "Do you want your anniversary present, or would you rather mock me?"

He only chuckled, but didn't reply, before picking up the menu to scan for dessert. A minute later he motioned to the waiter, ordering us both sushi s-mores.

"So, are you going to tell me what Dr Kendrick called for?" I reminded him, placing the menu back in front of me and folding my arms over the table.

"Oh," he piped up in recognition, before pausing a moment. "She managed to fit you in this Monday at . . . one, I think."

"You think?"

He jerked his shoulder. "I wrote it down at home."

"Okay," I replied, before adding, wryly, "if I survive Jack's party, that is."

"The little shit is spoiled rotten," Edward mumbled, almost cynically through the natural warmth he used when referring to Jack.

I sighed brashly. "Now that's a nice thing to call your only son, isn't it?"

"What should I call him, then? Snot?" he replied, laughing softly through his nose.

I shook my head minimally to myself, deciding not to take him too seriously, before reflecting on it a moment. The first year of Jack's life had gone so fast I'd barely been able to keep up.

"He's growing up too quickly," I brooded. "I don't want him to be one."

"Want me to knock you up with another one?" Edward joked, lightly; though, it wasn't even remotely funny, because with Jack on the cusp of no longer being a baby, my maternal instincts had only grown stronger, and I was secretly yearning for another one.

"You're hilarious, husband," I replied, my tone deliberately sarcastic, making Edward pause.

"Baby, you know we can do another IVF cycle, if you really want to," he put to me, sounding hesitant, and whether he was aware of it or not, his entire face was suddenly reflecting his obvious aversion to the idea.

Did I want to do another round of IVF? God no. Did I want another baby?

Yes, but at the same time, I was hoping that urge would go away. It wouldn't exactly be conducive.

I shook my head, pondering the idea for no longer than a few seconds before I was quickly reminded of the absolute heartbreak I'd gone through with both cycles before I got pregnant with Jack. "We were lucky to get Jack, last time," I murmured, deliberately omitting the real reason why I'd never put myself, or Edward, through that experience again.

Jack was worth everything I'd gone through, but all the loss leading up to him was not worth another cycle of IVF.

Edward didn't answer, and when I rose my head to meet his gaze, I only shook my head again, reiterating it silently in answer.

No, I did not want to do IVF, _ever again_.

**. . .**

Ang had offered to mind Jack for us, and just past nine we stopped by to pick him up.

"How was he?" I asked Ang in a near whisper, just as Ben carried out our near unconscious son.

"He was an angel, as usual—he and Josh are a riot together," Ang replied, smiling secretively to herself, before covertly handing me back my house keys.

"Thank you," I mouthed to her, while Edward was distracted chatting quietly to Ben as he bundled Jack up; it was ice-cold outside, now.

While Edward and I were out tonight, Ben had stopped by the house and moved Jack's cot out of mine and Edward's bedroom and into his own. That was part one of my anniversary present to Edward. Part two took place after we were home and Jack was fast asleep in his own room.

"Thanks, guys," I echoed Edward's gratitude, before quickly reaching out to hug Ang.

Then, after covering Jack's head with his favourite beanie, and slipping on his baby Uggs, that Rach had sent him after he was born, Edward propped him over his shoulder, wrapped snuggly in a blanket, and we left.

We managed to get Jack in and out of his car seat without disturbing him too much, before Edward carried him down the hall to our room. I only watched, smiling inwardly to myself, as he entered our bedroom, before reappearing a few seconds later with a puzzled expression on his face.

"You moved his cot?" he whispered, before a slow smile began to pull on his lips, turning quickly to a full grin as the implications behind it sunk in.

I only rolled my eyes, motioning to Jack's bedroom.

While Edward was putting the baby down, I went into the master bath, before getting undressed and slipping into part two of his anniversary present; a silk nightgown.

I was usually content enough to sleep in one of Edward's old t-shirts, and he usually had no trouble removing them when need be; though, I was hoping this silk ensemble, that closely sheathed my body, would remain intact for a little while, at least.

Edward tip-toed in the room a couple of minutes later, closing the door quietly behind him; despite the fact that his son was as much a heavy sleeper as he was.

Though, tonight, I suspected he didn't want to risk it.

"He's out cold," he whispered, referring to the baby, before he looked up and instantly faltered. With his grin growing shrewd, his eyes immediately zeroed in on my yet-to-transition-back-to-normal chest. "Oh hell, yes. . ." he murmured more or less to himself, before climbing on the bed and encircling me in his arms.

"Happy anniversary, doofus," I whispered against his shortly cropped hair, almost laughing by his evident preoccupation with my chest.

He had buried his entire face against my cleavage and appeared happy to stay that way, before he looked up and planted his lips to the side of my neck.

"Does this mean they're here to stay?" he mumbled against my skin, his hands now fully cupping my breasts.

"For a little while," I acknowledged, allowing him to lie me back against the bed, before his lips merged with mine.

Just as I'd hoped, Edward seemed content to explore my body through the nightgown, his hands running from my chest down passed my stomach and hips before he ran them beneath the silk material; while he kept his lips anchored to my mouth and neck.

"You're all woman, now, buttercup," he uttered, his gravelly voice fast becoming muffled against my flesh.

"Does that surprise you?" I replied breathily, closing my eyes and allowing my head to fall back against the pillow as he slowly inched the weight of his body over mine.

"You're always fucking surprising me," was his response, that was practically a growl, his hands now fully beneath my nightgown; his fingers probing along my skin.

"Ma-ma," Jack's voice suddenly whimpered through the baby monitor that sat on my bedside table.

"Fuck me sideways," Edward groaned, relaxing his weight on me as if in surrender.

"_Honey_!" I reproached him, before reaching over to grab my phone, opening the video app. Jack was stirring, about to pull himself up on the side railing of his cot. "Shhhhh, baby. Momma's here," I spoke as soothingly as I could manage—in light of the energy my husband had begun to awaken in me. "Go back to sleep."

With bated breath Edward and I both watched Jack through the screen of my phone as he flopped himself back on his belly, fussing softly for a further minute before he finally fell silent again.

"Jesus," Edward muttered in relief, running his hand stiffly back through his hair before pulling us both to our knees. Then in one movement, he pulled my nightgown up and over my torso, before hastily tearing his clothes from his body.

The momentum had now increased and had become rushed—in the event that Jack woke again—turning what I had hoped would be a restitution with my husband in our bed once more, into just another quickie while the baby was asleep.

It's not that Edward and I needed any length of time to reach that physical affinity with each other; still, I missed the carefree abandonment that was once our sex life, and any hopes of recreating it again were evidently premature, at this point in Jack's life.

I consoled myself with the feel of Edward's hot heavy body as it collided back into me behind his release, and the knowledge, that for the first time since before Jack was born, Edward and I could fall asleep with our damp bodies naked and tangled around one another.

**. . .**

Four days later was Jack's first birthday party. He'd woken earlier than usual—he was still getting used to the new environment of sleeping in his bedroom—and unless we got him to take an early nap we knew he'd be grumpy the entire day. We ended up driving him around for two hours, while he slept in the car, and by the time his party started he was full of beans.

It was a crazy day, exacerbated by the fact that Jack was hyped up on sugar—courtesy of Uncle Emmett and Pixy Stix—and overstimulated by the dozens of people who turned up for his birthday. He got more toys than we knew what to do with, not to mention a cubby house that Emmett and Rose had bought—that Emmett and Edward were going to build the next day. Esme and Carlisle had also sent him an expensive looking rocking horse that we'd saved for Jack's birthday, despite it arriving by UPS more than two weeks earlier. Neither Edward nor I knew what was inside the giant box, and the look on Edward's face when he helped Jack tear off the wrapping was one of surprise, if not slight appreciation.

I'd been holding my breath the entire day, unsure how he'd react over it, and it wasn't until I was positive I hadn't detected a hint of anger in his expression that I was able to release it.

It was another hurdle where his parents were concerned, and another where we both come out of it unscathed. Or rather, where Edward had learned to separate his feelings for his parents from their past actions.

Ang volunteered to take the photos for the party, starting out with Jack dressed in the outfit we'd picked for his birthday, to opening his presents, blowing out his one candle on his Mickey Mouse birthday cake, and ending with him in nothing but a nappy, practically head first in his "smash cake" as he attempted to eat it whole.

By the end of the day, he was completely exhausted, and covered from head to toe in blue dyed icing. Edward took him in the shower with him, and he was asleep in his arms before we were able to clean the remnants of cake from his hair.

"One birthday down, another twenty to go," Rose joked as she helped me clean up afterward, before fixing something easy for dinner.

She, Emmett and EJ were staying overnight, like they usually did whenever they visited, and with Edward and Emmett watching football with EJ in the family room, I was grateful for the help.

"This year has gone crazy fast," I professed with a wistful sigh, taking the lasagne out of the oven.

"I barely recall EJ's first year—I was so sleep deprived," Rose added dryly, as she placed utensils on the kitchen table.

I chuckled softly, before checking the baby monitor on my phone; Jack remained sleeping so peacefully that my heart momentarily ached in my chest.

My one and only baby, was no longer a baby, and instead of celebrating this milestone in his life, I really just wanted to cry.

"You okay, baby?" Edward asked me simply, curling his fingers around my shoulder before planting his lips quickly to my temple; having obviously been roused from the TV by the smell of the freshly baked pasta.

"Yeah," I answered, pulling myself quickly together, and Edward, clearly misconstruing my melancholy for exhaustion—I was that too, after all—squeezed my side before sitting down at the dinner table.

With the amount of cake Edward had consumed that day it was honestly surprising that he could still be hungry, and while Rose and I ate sparingly—all sugared-out from the day's candy haul—Edward, Emmett and EJ easily finished off the large pan of lasagne, in one serve.

I was distracted, for the most part. It'd been a long day; I was tired, on top of mourning my baby, while excited for the next year of his life, at the same time. Perhaps if I was more in tune, I would have been aware of the awkwardness that began to grow between Emmett and Rose.

Edward, on the other hand, didn't miss a thing, and just as I was about to get up and start clearing the table, he threw his fork down against his empty plate and burst, "Okay, what the hell is going on with you two?"

Straightening up surprised, I turned from Edward to Rose, just in time to see the guilt spread blatantly across her face.

"There's been a development," Rose began, before releasing her breath, "about Christmas."

I only raised my brows in question, just as Edward vocalised what I hadn't directly spoken.

We were planning on spending this coming Christmas with Rose and Emmett, and other than that I was unprepared for what this development could be.

Maybe I was being naïve.

"Carlisle's got some kind of medical conference in Seattle on the twenty-third. They're going to be in town, and asked if they could spend Christmas with us, as well," Rose explained tactfully, while looking like it pained her to admit it.

From beside me Edward expelled his breath, groaning with it, and muttering something that sounded like "fuck me sideways".

"We told them we'd already made plans with you guys," Emmett added quickly, obviously reacting to Edward, "and, well, Mom asked if you wouldn't mind if they—"

"Forget it!" Edward interjected, sharply. "We'll do Christmas next year."

"You sure?" Rose put to him. "I can tell them it'd make you guys uncomfortable."

"Yeah, and then we'd be the assholes," Edward muttered, his expression completely darkening, before he rose from the table so abruptly he caused it to screech a couple of inches forward across the timber floor.

He immediately stormed from the room, with Emmett hot on his heels, while EJ only stared after them in bewilderment.

"EJ, go with Dad," Rose directed him, before turning to me with a sigh, shaking her head lightly to herself. "I'm guessing it's a 'no'."

And I knew with her and Emmett remaining neutral in the entire fiasco with Edward, Esme and Alice, it wasn't exactly easy for them, either.

"He's slowly getting there," I replied, lowering the tone of my voice. "I mean, he's okay about cards and gifts for Jack, but then he threw out the card his mother sent him for his birthday."

"I can't say I blame him, really," Rose said, shrugging a shoulder, before her attention zeroed in on me. "What about you, Bella? If Edward was okay about it, would_ you_ be?"

I thought about it for a moment, realising I had become completely impassive towards Esme and Alice now. I was no longer angry, despite the fact that I would never forget what they'd done—that it had shaped both me and Edward into the people we were today. The only thing I was able to do was see the positives in it and put it behind me, but in saying that it was always going to be harder for Edward.

"I guess I'd be okay," I answered, getting to my feet and stacking the plates together. "I mean, it'd be awkward—no denying that—but then Esme is Jack's only grandmother. I do want him to know her."

"You know she cried when she found out you'd named the baby Jack?" Rose disclosed, not sounding nearly as casual as she no doubt intended to be.

Unloading the dishes in the sink, I paused, before dropping my forehead to my palm. "Please don't let Edward know that."

Rose only threw me a semi-apologetic smile.

"It's been almost ten years," I muttered more or less to myself.

Ten years since I'd have the first ectopic pregnancy, ten years since my mother died; ten years since Edward disappeared, making us all believe he was dead; and ten years since I'd gone back to Australia and returned with my life firmly entwined in the lie Esme and Alice created to keep me and Edward apart.

It almost felt like another lifetime ago. In fact, I barely recognised Edward today in the boy he once was. As much as his anger was just as prevalent over his mother's actions, he'd long since grown up and had learned to place it well below his other priorities.

"What has?" Rose asked, before her expression suddenly smoothed out in realisation. "Oh, god, it has. Jesus that seems so long ago, now."

"I know," I murmured, before my natural defence mechanism immediately reminded me of the only thing that redeemed it all; mine and Edward's first day. That it'd been almost four years since that night in the snow.

Four years this coming February when Edward walked into my restaurant and back into my life.

After my wedding, and Jack's birth it was the most significant moment in my life. I still thought of it almost every day—I could still recall every single detail. Rod Stewart was on the radio, ironically singing 'This Old Heart of Mine', while I was deep frying prawns. I was still almost literally reeling from what Alice had revealed the day before that my mind was far from what I was presently doing. My heart hadn't stopped racing since that moment, while my hands—not to mention my entire body of skin—trembled uncontrollably.

The only thing I could do with any clarity was replay Alice's confession in my mind, over and over; that it'd all been a lie, every day of the last six years—all of it. Edward had never broken up with me, and he'd never met anyone else; he'd been living just as miserably as I had, being made to believe an equally as callous lie.

And that he missed me.

It was then that Ang came into the kitchen, her entire face lit up into an almost over exaggerated smile, that for a moment I only gazed blankly at her.

"B," she exclaimed, her voice almost failing in her excitement, "_Edward's here_!"

I was fairly certain my heart came to a screeching halt, and drawing in my breath on absolute impulse, I dropped the egg lift I was holding, before clamping my palm to my chest. Only I had no words; my mouth opened and then closed again without a sound.

"He told me he wants to speak to you!" Ang went on to add, in an almost whisper, so emotionally affected on my behalf her eyes welled in tears.

"He-he does?" I stammered in near disbelief, my heart rocking my entire being; in fact, I was beginning to feel like I was losing my sense of continuum.

She only nodded, before grabbing my elbow and dragging me to the register, where we were safely concealed by the glass cabinet.

There he was.

He was sitting at a table for two in the far corner of the restaurant, dragging his fingers back through his hair, and yanking on his collar—all the very same mannerisms I'd once been intimately familiar with—clearly aware of all the attention centred on him. He was wearing a navy EMS uniform, and his hair, while always attempting to defy gravity, was shorter than I'd ever seen him wear it.

I only continued to stare at him, feeling myself all but sway on my feet, while my face burned brazenly. I almost didn't recognise him. He was twenty-five, a grown man, and gone was almost all resemblance to the eighteen year old boy I'd once known.

Before I was aware of what I was doing, I spun on my heel and walked back to the kitchen. I needed to get control of myself, because right then, I was coming apart.

"Okay,_ breathe_, B." Ang was suddenly before me, gripping both my arms at my sides and peering closely into my eyes.

I was hyperventilating and I'd barely been aware of it.

"D-do I look okay?" I remember asking, not nearly as cognizant of how unbalanced I could feel myself becoming.

In response, Ang only laughed softly. "Hang on a minute, you have lettuce in your hair."

After straightening me out, she all but shoved me back out into the crowded restaurant toward him. Several times I almost stalled and backed out, but my legs kept propelling me forward as if on auto-pilot.

When I was within a couple of feet from him, he picked up the menu, bringing it in front of his face, as if he was using it to shield himself from all the gawkers. Jessica Crowley most especially; her mouth was all but literally hanging open, exposing her tonsils.

His hands were shaking, I noticed, and I wondered whether he was feeling what I was at that moment, because for me there were absolutely no words to describe it.

"Where do you keep your mugs?" Rose suddenly asked, tearing me back to the present moment, while my body continued to react from the almost tangible energy the memories alone had stirred within me.

"Right side of the dishwasher," I answered remaining preoccupied, before stealthily ducking my head around the corner into the living room, seeking Edward.

He was chatting easily with Emmett as the pair of them continued watching the football, and gone was the hostility on his expression from only a few minutes before.

With a small internal sigh, I moved to pull myself back to the kitchen, when Edward turned and caught my gaze. His brows immediately raised, his expression conveying the two-worded question he often asked me.

You okay?

Tilting my head to the side, I smiled, letting him know I was fine, when he decided to push it and wink.

With my smile turning to a cynical smirk, I turned back to Rose, when the sound of Jack's screaming suddenly projected loudly through my phone app.

"I'll go, baby," Edward volunteered, sounding somewhat exasperated.

He returned to the kitchen not a minute later carrying Jack; the both of them splattered in regurgitated Mickey Mouse birthday cake. And while Edward looked comically resigned, not to mention on the verge of throwing up himself, Jack only laughed; smearing the muck further into his pyjamas and his father's cheeks.

"Aren't kids wonderful?" Rose said, her tone a perfect mixture of repulsion and amusement.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty, let me know your thoughts, or lurk, or whatever's your poison. . . **


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